Hermione Granger and the Missing Friend
by Ian Hycrest
Summary: Isolating Harry over the summer before 5th year didn't work out like Dumbledore had hoped. Now, with her friend having run away, Hermione is left to pick up the pieces, trying to stand strong against the challenges in a school where racism and injustice are not only tolerated, but actively encouraged by some teachers. All she can do is wonder how Harry made it all look so easy!
1. Chapter 1: A Night in London

_Disclaimer - I don't own anything_

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Chapter 1: A Night in London

As dusk settled over London, the streets slowly came to life. The day had been the hottest yet of the summer, and so people had stayed in their comfortable homes, enjoying a respite from the heat. Now, however, they ventured out, eager for the many sights and activities their city had to offer in the cool evening. Most everywhere, people strolled casually along the walkways, stopping to chat with friends and neighbors they met along the way. It was a pleasant way to spend the evening. Grimmauld Place, however, was quite a different story.

It was in an older part of town, and was rather run-down. The grass was unkempt, and here and there, broken windows could be seen in the houses that lined the road. Not a soul walked along these sidewalks. The inhabitants here kept to themselves, and rarely had visitors. But what most people found most curious about Grimmauld Place was the house numbers. Those that lived in the old, grimy houses had long since accepted the strange curiosity that there was no Number 12 Grimmauld Place; the house numbers skipped it entirely, going from 11 straight to 13. A variety of theories had been proposed over the years to explain this oversight, however, none of the inhabitants of that miserable little square could have ever guessed the truth. The fact was, there was a Number 12 Grimmauld Place - but it had been hidden from them magically by the owners long ago.

Had any of the neighbors been able to enter the house, they would likely have stared in wonder at what lay inside, for the long-time owners, a family called Black, had been wizards of great wealth and fame, so the house held many magical and mysterious artifacts. It was quite ironic, then, that the bushy-haired girl sitting at the large dining table inside Number 12 was staring not in wonder, but in frustration, at the piece of parchment lying in front of her.

Her name was Hermione Granger, and until four years ago, she had been just like the people in the surrounding houses – completely unaware of the magical world hidden around them. It wasn't until she had received an invitation to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry (which she, of course, had never heard of) that she had discovered that she was a witch, one of the lucky few with the innate ability to perform real magic. During her years at Hogwarts, she had learned and done things she never would have imagined. She had faced challenges that non-magic folk, commonly referred to as Muggles by those in the wizarding world, would not have believed possible.

This particular evening, however, she faced a much more mundane challenge. Her lips moved silently as she reread the short letter she had written.

_Dear Harry,_

_I hope you enjoyed the chocolates I sent for your birthday, and I hope that it was an enjoyable day. Did you do anything fun?_

She stopped reading right there. Of course he didn't do anything fun, she thought, angry with herself. Her friend Harry Potter lived with his aunt and uncle, who, like Hermione's parents, were muggles. Unlike Hermione's parents, they despised everything to do with magic, including, it seemed, Harry himself. She still remembered the shock she had first felt when she learned that her friend had never had a birthday party. Most years, they forgot his birthday altogether. Asking if he did anything fun would probably do nothing more than remind Harry that he was stuck in a house he hated with people who hated him. She sighed as crumpled up the piece of parchment and threw it into the wastebasket with her previous failures.

"Writing to one of my best friends should not be this difficult," she exclaimed to no one in particular.

Across the table, her other best friend, Ron, looked up at her. "Still having trouble figuring out what to write?" he asked. She nodded. "You know you can't really write what you want to, so there's no point in trying so hard. Just put something down and send it," he said as he stood up.

Hermione stared in amazement. "You're already done?" she asked disbelievingly. As Ron stretched, she quickly took the opportunity to snatch the letter he had written, narrowly avoiding his attempts to grab it back. She made no effort to keep the scorn out of her voice as she read his letter out loud.

_Dear Harry,_

_Hope it was a happy birthday. Can't wait to see you. I've got loads to tell you, but I can't say it here in case the owl is intercepted._

_Your Friend,_

_Ron_

Hermione stared for a moment at the parchment, then turned to glare at Ron. "You were actually going to send this?" she asked in an accusatory tone. He tried to meet her gaze, but finally focused on the table instead, his face going nearly as red as his hair.

"Well, what's the point?" he muttered. "Dumbledore made us swear not to tell Harry anything..."

Hermione wanted to scream in frustration. Not at Ron. He was right. No matter how many times they had this conversation, it always came around to that one simple fact. Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had made them promise. Unfortunately, he hadn't explained why he wanted Harry kept in the dark. It made no sense. Harry was a very talented wizard, who had demonstrated both his courage and his abilities many times before. And Hermione knew that now, more than ever, Harry would want to know everything that they knew.

When Harry had been a year old, Lord Voldemort, a dark wizard so powerful and evil that most people preferred to call him "You-Know-Who" rather than utter his name, had attempted to kill Harry. Somehow, the curse had rebounded upon Voldemort, nearly destroying him. But just a few months ago, one of Voldemort's loyal followers had successfully infiltrated Hogwarts. Harry had been captured, and his blood used to restore Voldemort. Harry had managed to escape and return to Hogwarts, but one of the other students, Cedric Diggory, had not been so lucky. Hermione remembered well the confusion and horror they had all felt when Harry had been magically transported back to Hogwarts, clutching Cedric's body.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister for Magic, had chosen to ignore the evidence of Voldemort's return, instead convincing himself that both Harry and Dumbledore were deliberately trying to cause panic and confusion. Under pressure from the Ministry, the press had followed suit, treating all reports of Voldemort's growing power as lies. Before this summer, Harry had been famous, and very well respected, commonly known throughout the wizarding community as "The Boy Who Lived". Now he was constantly insulted and belittled for trying to warn people of the immense danger they faced. Though Harry had never cared for the fame (in fact, he had not even known that he was famous until he had come to Hogwarts), she could only imagine how much it hurt every time he was made the butt of one of the Daily Prophet's jokes.

"I know we promised not to reveal anything, but that doesn't mean that we can completely disregard how Harry must be feeling," she finally said. "He experienced the most horrific ordeal imaginable, and he knows that we know more about what... You-Know-Who... is up to than he does. I'm certain he's frustrated. Perhaps even furious! Honestly, knowing Harry, I'm amazed he hasn't done something reckless. The first few weeks, I thought he was going to hop on his broomstick and fly over to your house demanding answers."

Hermione fell silent once more. She remembered how excited she had been when Professor Dumbledore had invited her to spend the summer here, helping the wizards and witches who were secretly defying the Ministry to fight against Voldemort. Known as the Order of the Phoenix, they came from all walks of life. Dumbledore himself was the leader. It was widely said that the only one You-Know-Who had ever feared was Dumbledore. Given that she and Ron were only 15, they were never allowed into the Order's meetings, and had only a vague idea of what was going on, but it had still been wonderful to be a part of something so important. But now, she would have given anything to forget it all, and be back at her home where she was able to write freely to Harry without being constrained by her oath to Dumbledore.

She glanced sideways at the small stack of rejected letters to her friend. "I give up," she finally announced. "I'll write him tomorrow.". Ron reached out to take back his letter, but Hermione instead crumpled it up and threw it over with her letters. "You're not sending that, Ron. The last thing Harry needs right now is more vague hints about what we're up to." Ron opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it without a word.

The door to the dining room slid open, and Ron's younger sister Ginny walked in, looking exhausted. "Somehow, I thought that helping the Order would involve more excitement, and less cleaning," she said as she sunk into a chair.

"You wanted to help the Order, and that's exactly what you're doing," said Ron and Ginny's mother as she strode quickly in from the kitchen, followed by floating dishes laden with an assortment of food. With a flick of her wand, she conjured a tablecloth from nowhere, and directed the flying food onto the table. A few more motions of her wand brought plates, cups and silverware flying in from the kitchen, positioning themselves neatly around the table. "Ginny, go upstairs and tell Fred and George that dinner's ready." Ginny looked like she was about to argue, but stood instead. "Oh, and Sirius, too," her mother added.

Ginny had just reached for the door when two loud cracks filled the room, and everyone jumped. "Did someone say dinner?" Fred asked as he and George sat down. Mrs. Weasley glared at them. "Just because you can apparate does not mean that you should every time you need to move more than a few feet!" she said in a frustrated voice. Although Hermione agreed completely, she secretly thought that Mrs. Weasley was fighting a losing battle. The twins had passed their Apparition test earlier that summer, and now, seemed to consider walking to be a waste of time.

"And how did you hear me say dinner?" Mrs. Weasley asked, looking at the twins suspiciously. Hermione kept her face neutral, though she knew what Mrs. Weasley was thinking. Fred and George were the most notorious troublemakers at Hogwarts. Their lifelong desire was to start a shop selling gag gifts and little trinkets for causing mischief and mayhem. For more than a year, they had been developing products, and one of their most recent ones were the Extendable Ears, which allowed a person to eavesdrop on conversations being held several rooms away. They had attempted to use the Extendable Ears to listen in on the Order's meetings, which they also were not allowed to attend. Mrs. Weasley had caught them, and destroyed the ears, but Hermione knew that Mrs. Weasley suspected the twins had a few more pairs carefully hidden from her.

"Mum," Fred began in a patient voice, "You've known us for 17 years..."

"And you're still surprised that we can hear the word 'dinner' from just 50 feet away?" George finished.

Still glaring, their mother turned her attention back to the food on the table, checking to make sure that everything was ready. Ginny returned, explaining that Sirius was feeding the Hippogriff, Buckbeak, and would be down in a few minutes.

"Who's the extra plate for?" Ron suddenly asked. Surprised, Hermione looked around at the table once more. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the twins, Ginny, Ron, herself and Sirius made eight. But Ron was right. There was a ninth plate on the table.

"Tonks is going to be joining us," Mrs. Weasley said absent-mindedly. Ginny's face lit up. Nymphadora Tonks was the youngest member of the Order of the Phoenix. She was also one of the funniest. Most Aurors (the Ministry's elite warriors in the fight against Dark Magic) were very stoic and serious, but Tonks was the complete opposite. She loved joking around, and, if rumor were to be believed, had been quite a prankster during her time at Hogwarts.

"Well, I suppose we can get started," Mrs. Weasley said, looking at the hungry teenagers around her. "Arthur won't be back for another half hour at least, and I'm not sure what time Tonks will be..."

A loud crack cut her off as Mr. Weasley appeared suddenly. "Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "What are..." Once more she was cut off.

"No time," Mr. Weasley said hurriedly as he looked around the room. "Accio!" he cried, quickly summoning the parchment and quill that Hermione had been using earlier. Everyone in the room gathered around, exchanging confused looks as Mr. Weasley scribbled a short note onto the parchment. Finally, he looked up. "Where's Errol?" he demanded.

Hermione could see Ginny start to blush. She had been using Errol, the family owl, to exchange letters with one of the boys at school all summer, but didn't want anyone else to know. Hermione only knew because they shared a room. She certainly didn't blame Ginny for wanting to keep it a secret. If Fred and George got one whiff of that, she was sure they would never stop teasing Ginny.

"Nevermind, I'll take it to the local Owl Post. It'll be faster that way," Mr. Weasley said hurriedly. "I'll explain everything when I get back," he added as he disappeared with another crack.

No one seemed to want to break the silence. Instead, they all just looked at each other. Hermione was glad to see that everyone else was clearly as bemused as she was. The door slid open, and Sirius Black walked in and sat down, quickly noticing the atmosphere in room. "What's wrong?" he demanded.

"We... don't know," Mrs. Weasley replied slowly. She quickly explained Mr. Weasley's sudden appearance, and equally mysterious disappearance. As she spoke, Sirius' eyebrows gathered together, concern obvious in his eyes. Hermione was confident that she knew what he was thinking.

Sirius had been best friends with Harry's father, and had blamed himself when James and Lily Potter were killed by Voldemort. It hadn't helped that most of the wizarding world had blamed him as well, thinking that he had been in league with the evil wizard. Sirius had been sent to Azkaban, a wizard prison guarded by the horrid dementors, dangerous creatures who spread an aura of fear and despair, stealing every happy thought from anyone unfortunate enough to be around them. He had escaped just two years ago, and managed to identify the real culprit, another wizard named Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew had escaped, and so, the Ministry had refused to believe that Sirius was, in fact, innocent. But Dumbledore knew, and had given Harry and Hermione the opportunity to help Sirius escape from the Ministry once more. Since then, Sirius had dedicated all his energy to helping and protecting Harry, attempting to make amends for his failure to protect his friends by protecting their son.

"It can't have anything to do with Harry..." Hermione tried to sound confident, but it still came out as a question. "Dumbledore's had members of the Order guarding him day and night all summer." Yet another fact of which Harry was unaware. She didn't even want to think about how he would react when he found out.

"Who was on duty tonight?" Ginny asked, her face pale. She had been quite taken with Harry since she first met him, and Hermione knew that, despite her blossoming relationship with Michael Corner, Ginny still loved Harry.

"Mundungus Fletcher," her mother replied in a tight voice. Hermione could see that everyone was thinking the same thing. The members of the Order of the Phoenix came from all walks of life, and Mundungus Fletcher was definitely at the bottom of the heap. He was a small-time thief and conman, but his connections with the less reputable members of the wizarding community made him a valuable ally at this time. He was not, however, particularly reliable.

"Mundungus Fletcher," Sirius repeated softly, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

A crack once more filled the room, and Mr. Weasley sat down in a chair with a loud groan. Immediately, everyone began asking questions, each speaking loudly to try to make themselves heard over the voices of the others trying to ask the exact same thing. Mr. Weasley held up his hands, and finally yelled, "QUIET!", wincing as he realized what he had done.

Down the hall, an enchanted portrait of Sirius' now-deceased mother awoke, and, as usual, began screaming. Everyone looked at Sirius. "Leave it," he said forcefully as he shut the door with a quick motion of his wand. He turned back to Mr. Weasley. "What happened?"

"Mundungus Fletcher was on duty guarding Harry this evening. He received some information about a less than honest business opportunity, and left. While he was gone, Harry and his cousin were attacked by a pair of dementors."

There was a collective gasp from the listeners, but it was Ron that finally spoke. "Harry's okay, though, right? I mean, he's been able to handle dementors since 3rd year."

"Harry's fine," Mr. Weasley said reassuringly. "That's not the problem."

"Underage magic," Hermione whispered, horrified. Mr. Weasley nodded.

"That's ridiculous," Ginny shouted. "He was defending himself!"

"The Ministry's not going to care about that," Sirius said harshly. "They've been looking for a way to discredit Harry for months. Now they finally have it."

Hermione let out a soft groan as she remembered what Mr. Weasley had said. "And Harry was with his cousin? That means not only was it underage magic, but magic in front of a muggle! The Ministry will claim that Harry violated the International Statute of Secrecy."

Once more, a shout of protest arose. "He was protecting him!"

"And besides," Fred added, "His cousin's seen magic before. When we picked Harry up last year, Dudley ate one of our Ton-Tongue Toffees. After having a six-foot long tongue, watching Harry fight off a couple of dementors was probably nothing."

"What's going to happen now?" Mrs. Weasley asked, the concern in her voice obvious. Harry and Ron had been best friends since they started school 4 years ago, and with Harry's parents gone, the whole Weasley family had sort of adopted Harry into their own.

"The Ministry tried to expel Harry from Hogwarts, destroy his wand and charge him with several violations of wizarding law."

"They can't do that!" Hermione said, shocked at the flagrant violation of due process.

"No, they can't," Mr. Weasley agreed, "And Dumbledore reminded the minister of that. A formal hearing has been set in a few weeks with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. That's when the decision will be made that determines what happens to Harry."

Sirius stood, and grabbed a quill and some parchment. "I've already written Harry a letter," Mr. Weasley began, but Sirius cut him off.

"And I'm writing him another one," he said in a tone that indicated the decision was not up for discussion. A few moments later, Sirius left the room to give the letter to one of the owls the Order kept on hand. Silence filled the room once more. Hermione could still hear the muffled yells of Mrs. Black's portrait down the hall.

"Well, we can't do anything more right now," Mrs. Weasley said in what she clearly thought was a cheerful voice. "Best not let the food get too cold." Everyone sat down once more, but Hermione could tell that none of them were any more interested in the food than she was.

Hermione and the Weasleys had almost finished eating when Sirius finally reappeared, still looking agitated. Hermione knew that it was taking all of his willpower not to leave the house and go straight to Harry, but with the Ministry still on the lookout for him, it was far too dangerous. Of course, Sirius had never been particularly concerned about danger.

With everyone sitting quietly, filled with worry and anticipation, it was pleasant change when Tonks finally appeared, seemingly as jovial as ever.

"Of course I heard about Harry," she said when they tried to tell her what had happened. "The whole Ministry's talking about it. But it won't be a problem. I know Amelia Bones, the head of the department. She's strict, but she's fair. Since Harry had a good reason to do the magic, she'll make sure that Fudge can't do anything to punish him."

Relief filled Hermione, and she could see from the smiles around the room that she was not the only one. "Are you sure?" Ginny asked.

Tonks smiled reassuringly. "Trust me, it'll be fine. Why, three years ago, there was a 16-year-old out in Sheffield..."

Hermione only partially listened to Tonks' story, instead focusing on her face. She could not help noticing that Tonks' eyes didn't seem quite as unconcerned as the young Auror was pretending to be. Thinking through, Hermione realized the cause of the remaining anxiety, and as she looked at Sirius and Mr. Weasley, she could see that they understood it, too. Harry wouldn't be getting in trouble with the Ministry, but it was still a mystery why the dementors had attacked him at all.

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A/N - Don't expect regular updates. I will be focusing mainly on my 'Cry of Freedom' series, which begins with 'Harry Potter and the Vault of Time'. But sometimes you just gotta write something else, so I figured I might as well start posting this one, also. I'll try to update about once a month, but no promises.


	2. Chapter 2: The Missing Friend

Chapter 2: The Missing Friend

They had almost finished clearing the table when they heard the front door open, and several sets of footsteps began walking down the hall, taking care to be quiet so as not to awaken Mrs. Black. The door to the dining room slid open, and several members of the Order of the Phoenix entered, each with an obviously displeased look on his or her face. Hermione was surprised. In general, the members of the Order were usually a good-natured lot. She recognized two of the members, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Remus Lupin. She knew Lupin well. He had been one of her professors in her third year, and as a close friend of Sirius and the Potters, had been involved in the adventure with Sirius' escape. While she didn't know Shacklebolt quite as well, he had always been kind and friendly to the teens living in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. Now both men looked angrier than she had ever seen them. Hermione looked around, trying to locate the source of their displeasure. Finally, she spotted it. Or rather, spotted him.

It was no wonder that she hadn't noticed him before. Mundungus Fletcher was so short that he barely came up to the shoulders of the two wizards in front of him. His stringy hair looked as though it hadn't been washed in days, a conclusion that was supported by the strong smell of alcohol and tobacco coming off him.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him furiously, but before she could speak, another voice rang out.

"Mundungus Fletcher. Have you ANY idea what you have done?" Hermione was shocked. She recognized the voice, of course, but had never heard it speak in such a harsh tone. Albus Dumbledore strode purposefully into the kitchen, his intense blue eyes focused solely on the visibly trembling thief in the middle in of the room. Hermione had never seen Professor Dumbledore so angry. It both fascinated and frightened her. She couldn't tell whether it was just her eyes playing tricks on her, but it seemed that the entire room had grown darker, even as the fireplace Mundungus was slowly backing toward burned higher.

Mundungus opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Dumbledore's eyes narrowed, as though daring him to try to make some excuse.

"All of you, out now," Mrs. Weasley said to the teens. "This is Order business. It's no concern of yours." Normally, they would have all wanted to stay, but this time, there were no complaints as they quickly left the room. Obviously, the Weasley children were just as surprised and intimidated by this new side of Dumbledore as Hermione.

Fred and George were first up the stairs, walking quickly ahead of the group, whispering so softly Hermione could not hear what they were saying. Somewhat surprised they had not simply apparated, she wondered what they were whispering about. Perhaps the sight of Dumbledore so angry had finally convinced them to give up the trouble-making ways, she thought, but then quickly changed her mind. Fred and George were never going to change.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny climbed the stairs. The doorway on the right led to Ron's room. The original plan had been that Harry would share the room with him, but since Dumbledore had been delaying allowing Harry to come to the headquarters all summer, Ron had been all alone. The three teens walked into the room, and were surprised to find a large, snowy white owl waiting, her yellow eyes gazing at them intensely.

"Hedwig," Ginny exclaimed breathlessly. Hedwig was Harry's owl, a gift from the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid, for his 11th birthday.

"Oh, blimey," Ron said, pointing to the letters tied to Hedwig's leg. "I'm sure he's mad. At least he hasn't learned how to send Howlers," he said, looking at the other two to see if they had found his forced attempt at humor funny.

Hermione walked quickly over to the owl and grabbed the letters. There were three, one each for her, Ron, and Sirius. Handing Ron his letter, she opened hers, and read.

_I've just been attacked by Dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here._

She felt somewhat sick to her stomach. Even with all the useless letters they had been sending, Harry had at least maintained an attempt at friendly communication. But after everything this summer, she knew that this must be the last straw. She looked over at Ron. "What do we do?" she asked, not fully expecting an answer.

With a sigh, Ron grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrote,

_Dad and Dumbledore are working things out with the Ministry. We'll let you know when we know more._

He stood up and went to tie it on to Hedwig's leg, but before he could finish, Hedwig's sharp beak flashed down, pecking Ron's finger hard.

"Bloody 'ell," he exclaimed, jumping back and looking at the owl in horror. Hermione could see blood dripping onto the carpet.

"Harry must have told her not to come back until we give him real answers," she realized.

"So she had to bite my finger half off? That seems a bit excessive, don't you think?" Ron grabbed a cloth, and wrapped it around his finger to try to stop the bleeding. "So… what now?"

"We'll have to wait until the meeting is done. Given that Harry was attacked, he obviously can't stay there. Once the Order decides how to get Harry over here, we'll let him know. Dumbledore can't insist on keeping Harry in the dark after this," she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt.

They waited in silence for the meeting to end. Ginny began playing with Pigwidgeon, Ron's small, excitable owl, while Ron paced back and forth. Hermione just sat on the spare bed watching the other two, trying to suppress the guilty feeling that was welling up inside of her. After about 15 minutes, the door opened. "About time," Ron exclaimed. "Mum, what on earth is..." He fell silent, and began to blush furiously as Dumbledore strode serenely into the room.

The kindly twinkle was back in his eyes, but his voice was still very stern. "The Order has discussed the situation, and has decided that Harry will come here for the rest of the summer." Hedwig fluttered over from the desk where she had been perched, landing on the bed next to Hermione. "Ah, Hedwig, I thought I might find you here," Dumbledore said, then turned his attention back to the teens.

"I understand that this is not pleasant for you, but you must not tell Harry anything. Do not even reply to his letters." He must have seen the surprise and anger in their eyes, because he quickly explained. "While we do not know for certain, there is a possibility that the dementors that attacked Harry tonight were sent by Lord Voldemort. If this is the case, then he is certainly watching the house, and will be prepared to attack when we attempt to move Harry. Any form of contact with Harry could betray our plans to Voldemort, giving him information that could jeopardize Harry's life."

"But if You-Know-Who is watching the house, isn't Harry in danger?" Ron asked.

"As I said, Mr. Weasley, we do not know for certain that Voldemort ordered this attack. Even if he did, there is magic in that house that protects Harry while he is there. I saw to that personally when I delivered him to his Aunt and Uncle all those years ago. But just in case, there are now three very trustworthy members of the Order standing guard at the Dursley's. Members of the Order will escort Harry here in a few days, once we are confident that it is safe to move him. And so, I say again, we have things under control. Harry will be safe, but you must not do anything to risk Voldemort learning of our plans."

Hermione had a natural respect for authority, much more so than Harry or Ron, but she still had to say something. "Professor, I don't think this is a good idea. Harry can be reckless at times. He's angry, he's frustrated, and he's probably a little bit scared. That's not a good combination in anybody."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment, his eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles. "I understand your concerns, Miss Granger. And I believe you are correct. Harry will undoubtedly be angry. But he will be alive, and that is what is important." He stood, and walked calmly over to the door, before turning back to address them one more time. "Remember, it is only for a few more days."

"So, we can't tell Harry anything," Hermione said, defeated. "OUCH!" she screamed, then looked down at her hand where Hedwig had pecked her. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't like this any more than you do," she pleaded with the owl, even though she wasn't sure that Hedwig understood her.

Hedwig gazed unblinkingly at Hermione, then pecked her hand once more.

* * *

The next few days were some of the slowest in Hermione's life. With the exception of Sirius, the Black family had been some of the less noble members of the wizarding community, and their house reflected the fact. The rooms were filled with strange and dangerous objects and creatures. In the ten years since Mrs. Black had died, those creatures had spread, to the point where it now seemed as though the house itself had a will of its own, which was none too pleased with the current inhabitants' attempts to make it suitable once more for living in. But that wasn't why the days seemed so long.

Hermione was both anticipating and dreading her friend's arrival. Though she was thrilled that he would finally be here, she knew that it would not be a joyful reunion at first. How could she possibly explain why she had ignored his pleas for news at such a difficult time in his life? Somehow, she didn't think that a promise to Dumbledore would be enough of a reason to placate Harry.

Tonks still came to dinner most nights, and Lupin, who had been away for some time on a mysterious assignment for the Order, moved back into the house. They were a welcome addition, bringing some much-needed mirth to the normally somber meals. Tonks was a metamorphmagus, meaning that she could transform herself at will just be thinking about it. Although Hermione was sure that it was a very useful ability in her work as an Auror, at meals, Tonks primarily used it to make funny faces, to everyone but Mrs. Weasley's delight. But what relieved Hermione the most was when Lupin mentioned that both he and Tonks would be among the group going to escort Harry there the next night.

The next evening, Hermione waited with Ron in the room that he and Harry would be sharing. Downstairs, the Order was having a meeting. She wasn't at all interested in what they were discussing, but apparently, Fred and George felt differently. She had noticed them earlier whispering and pointing discreetly, and had seen what she thought was an extendable ear poking out of Fred's pocket. But all that she could think about was her friend's imminent arrival.

"Think he's getting close?" Ron asked for what must have been the tenth time that night.

Hermione suppressed a frustrated sigh. "Ron, as I said, I didn't hear exactly, but from what Tonks said, it sounded like the plan was to leave the Dursley's around nine. I'm guessing it will take an hour or so to fly here, so that means around 10. But we really have no idea, so continually asking me if I think he's getting close won't actually accomplish a thing," she finished, her frustration finally showing through at the end.

"Just asking," Ron muttered. They fell back into silence once more.

Only a few minutes later, the door opened. Hermione and Ron both jumped to their feet, but were disappointed to discover that it was only Mrs. Weasley. She seemed bothered by something, but refused to answer any questions, insisting instead that they go down to the dining room. Hermione and Ron made their way quickly downstairs.

There were over two dozen members of the order crowded into the room, but they were all strangely silent. All eyes turned to look at Hermione and Ron as they entered, then turned once back to Dumbledore, who was seated at the head of the table. He looked far older than Hermione had ever seen him look. A sick feeling began to spread throughout Hermione's body. Whatever was happening, it was serious, and it had something to do with Harry.

Finally, Dumbledore spoke. "As planned, a group of Order members traveled to the Dursley's this evening to escort Harry here." He paused for a moment before continuing. "However, when they arrived, Harry was gone." Hermione struggled for breath. She was startled when her bottom hit a chair; she had not even realized that she had sat down.

"Was it..." Ron asked, his voice trailing off, clearly unwilling to say Voldemort's name.

Dumbledore shook his head. "We can't be sure, but we don't think that Voldemort was involved. It appears as though Harry ran away. However, we don't know how he managed to get past Kingsley, Emmeline and Sturgis without being seen. However, the real question is, where has he gone? He is vulnerable, and we need to find him now. Has he ever mentioned anything that might give a clue as to where he might go?"

Hermione shook her head, still struggling to comprehend exactly what was happening. Harry missing. Beside her, she could see Ron just as shocked as her. Without a word, Sirius stood from the table and began walking toward the door.

"Sirius, where are you going?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"To find my Godson," came the angry reply. They could hear Sirius footsteps down the hall, then the outer slammed shut.

Hermione gazed in horror around the room. "You can do something, right?" she asked. "You can find him." No one said a word. A thought suddenly popped into her head. "Hedwig," she exclaimed, then, without another word, ran upstairs to Ron's bedroom.

She ran over to the desk, grabbed some parchment, and wrote quickly,

_Harry,_

_I'm so sorry for everything this summer. I know that you must be furious with us. Please understand, we thought it was for the best. We still love you. Please tell us where you are so that some of Dumbledore's people can bring you back here safely. Please, Harry._

_Hermione_

She turned, and located Hedwig, perched on the top of the dresser. "Come here, Hedwig," she called. Hedwig glided silently down, landing on the desk beside her. She heard a noise and was surprised to discover that the everyone from downstairs had followed her up here. Most of them were looking at her, plainly confused. "Hedwig can find Harry anywhere," she explained quickly.

She went to tie the letter to Hedwig's leg, but once more, Hedwig savagely pecked her hand. "Hedwig, please. I know this isn't the answer that Harry wanted, but he's missing, and we need to find him before … anyone else does." she pleaded, hot tears running down her cheeks. After a moment, Hedwig gave a soft hoot, then stuck out a scaly leg. "Thank you," she said softly as Hedwig flew out the window.

An awkward silence filled the room. Nobody moved, and nobody spoke. Hermione wondered how long it would take for Hedwig to return. She could fly very quickly, but there was no telling how far away Harry was. As the minutes crept by, Hermione moved to the bed, still looking out the window, watching intently for any sign of Hedwig's return. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing there were so many people standing behind her, watching her.

It felt like hours had passed when Hermione finally spotted a white dot in the distance, headed their way. She jumped to her feet and ran to the window, trying to see for sure if it really was Hedwig. It was.

The snowy owl landed on the windowsill next to Hermione, and patiently waited as she untied the letter. As soon as the letter was firmly in her grasp, however, Hedwig took off once more, flying away into the night, despite Hermione and Ron's frantic calls.

With a feeling of dread, Hermione looked at the note. An icy cold spread throughout her whole body.

_I'm done with you all. Don't come looking for me._

She dropped the note and fell to her knees, the room spinning around her. She was dimly aware of Lupin running toward her to grab the note, which he read aloud for the others. On hearing these words, a faint murmur arose from the group. They all looked uncertainly at Dumbledore, waiting for some indication of what to do now.

Hermione looked at the old professor. She could see the pain in his eyes, the sorrow as he realized that he had been wrong. Her grief turned to anger as she stared into his bright, blue eyes. "WHY?" she screamed. "AFTER EVERYTHING HE WENT THROUGH THIS YEAR, YOU STUCK HIM IN THAT HOUSE WITH... THEM! WHY?" She could see the shock on everyone's faces, but she didn't care. "WHAT DID YOU THINK WAS GOING TO HAPPEN, YOU STUPID OLD MAN!"

Not waiting for a response, she ran toward the doorway. The crowd parted for her, and she ran over to the bedroom she shared with Ginny, slamming the door shut behind her. She could see the horrified expression on Ginny's face, but she had no desire to explain. She threw herself down on the bed and cried.


	3. Chapter 3: The Long Ride Back

Chapter 3: The Long Ride Back

The next morning, Hermione woke somewhat later than usual. Sunlight was already streaming in through the window. She dressed slowly, then walked downstairs, hoping beyond hope that Harry had changed his mind, and contacted Dumbledore. Deep down, though, she knew this was unlikely.

She opened the door to the dining room, and could tell by the glum look on everyone's faces that she had been correct. Both Ginny and Mrs. Weasley looked as though they had been crying, and the usually irrepressible twins were sitting quietly at the table, picking disinterestedly at the breakfast set in front of them.

Hermione knew that Mr. Weasley would have already left for work, but that still left one person unaccounted for. "Where's Ron?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"Out with Remus looking for Harry," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"Do they have an idea where he is?" Hermione asked quickly, hope flaring up inside of her.

But Mrs. Weasley just shook her head. "They're beginning the search at Little Winging, then they'll spread out to some of the neighboring towns." She looked at Hermione intensely. "Are you certain that Harry has never mentioned anything that might give a clue as to where he would go?"

"Don't you think I would say something if I had any ideas?" Hermione said, growing angry despite of her attempts to stay calm.

"I'm sorry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said quickly. "I know this has been hard on you, too."

Hermione sat down at the table, disappointed. Mrs. Weasley quickly summoned some food from the kitchen and onto a plate, which she floated over to Hermione. She knew that she should eat something, but she found she was no more interested in the food than the twins.

"The problem is that Harry's not afraid to go somewhere or do something he's never done before," Hermione said, half to herself. It was one of the things that she had always admired about Harry. He had quickly learned to fly on a broomstick, even before being taught. In their third year, he had been the first in the class willing to approach the fearsome looking hippogriffs that Hagrid had brought for their Care of Magical Creatures class. And just this past year, he had had to fight a dragon, monstrous spiders, and hordes of other dangerous creatures as part of the Triwizard Tournament. After all that, she didn't think that the idea of traveling somewhere new on his own would frighten Harry at all. "I don't think that we're going to find him until he wants to be found," she said quietly.

Mrs. Weasley looked concerned for a minute, but forced a smile. "It will be fine, don't you worry. He's not the first child to run away. Remember, he's still underage. Sooner or later, he'll have to do some magic, and when he does, the Ministry will be able to detect it."

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Harry was raised as a muggle. He doesn't need magic. He got along just fine without it for 11 years."

"Don't fret, dear, everything will turn out fine," Mrs. Weasley said kindly. But Hermione could see in her eyes that she didn't believe it.

Everyone turned to look as the twins stood suddenly. "I remember Harry once saying something about accidentally using magic to free a snake from a zoo," George said excitedly.

"Maybe he's gonna go back, revisit the old haunts," Fred suggested. They both turned to their mother. "We're gonna go check it out," the twins said in unison, as though they had practiced it. With two loud pops, they were gone.

"I want to help," Hermione said. Mrs. Weasley smiled at her. "I'm sure you do, dear, but you need to eat first. Hestia Jones is going to be coming by headquarters later this morning. Perhaps she can take you out looking."

For the next week, Hermione and the Weasley children went out, accompanied, of course, by members of the Order, to look for Harry anywhere they could think of. Even though, deep down, Hemione was convinced that they wouldn't find Harry unless he wanted to be found, it was still nice to be doing something rather than stay cooped up in the house.

* * *

The evening of the 11th, Mr. Weasley came home, and sat down at the table, looking somewhat thinner and paler than usual. "Harry's hearing is scheduled for tomorrow," he announced to no one in particular. Dumbledore had decided not to alert the Ministry to Harry's disappearance, one decision that Hermione finally agreed with. "They sent an owl to his aunt and uncle's house, changing the time and place..." his voice trailed off.

"What happens if he doesn't go to the hearing, Dad?" Ginny asked apprehensively.

"I don't know. That could be viewed as a sign of guilt, but I don't know if they really want to press the issue. I think their main goal was to silence and discredit him." Mr Weasley drew a deep breath. "Harry disappearing like that, well, I think that gave them exactly what they wanted."

They had not seen hide nor hair of Sirius since the night he had stormed out of the meeting. She knew that was not necessarily a problem. He had been on the run before, and had several abilities that not even the Ministry knew about. However, the real problem with Sirius being gone was Kreacher.

Kreacher was the old house elf that had served the Blacks his whole life. As a house elf, he was bound by magic to serve the rightful owner of the house, but he did not try to hide his displeasure that his current master was Sirius. Hermione felt the use of house elves was one of the most shameful parts of the wizarding world, viewing it as something akin to slavery. Last year at school, she had even started a group to try to push for house elf rights. However, sometimes, Kreacher tried even her patience. With Sirius absent, Kreacher refused to listen to anyone, instead working to restore the house to the horrid state it had been in before the Order had taken over. Tonks had attempted to give him orders, as she was connected to the Black family through her mother, but apparently that connection was too tenuous for Kreacher.

All in all, what had once been an exciting adventure had become something akin to torture. Between worrying about Harry and fretting over what horrid things Kreacher was doing at nights, Hermione was miserable. But the worst came early on the morning of the 13th.

As usual, she awoke early to pay the owl that delivered the Daily Prophet. Though she despised the way that they mocked Harry and Dumbledore at every opportunity, she still read it, if only to keep aware of what the enemy was saying. When she opened the paper that morning, she wasn't surprised, but it still made her feel sick to her stomach when she saw the headline of the front page article.

"The Boy Who Ran"

Wanting nothing more than to scream, she quickly scanned the article, pausing a few times at some of the more outrageous statements to calm her temper. Fudge trying to give Harry every chance to explain his actions? Harry destroying the Dursley's possessions in a fit of rage as he left? Last year, a journalist named Rita Skeeter had reported on the Triwizard Tournament, and it was she who had begun the crusade against Harry, accusing him of being unstable and dangerous. It was sickening to see her lies being retold and expanded on. Hermione just prayed that wherever he was, Harry wasn't reading the Prophet anymore.

Throwing the paper angrily against the wall, she got dressed quickly, and stormed down to the kitchen. Tonks was there, reading the paper, and looking tired. Hermione shot her an inquiring look.

"I've been up all night," Tonks said. "Guard duty for the Order," she added when she saw Hermione's confused look, but neglected to explain any further.

Hermione fixed a cup of tea, and sat down, glaring maliciously at the paper. Tonk's must have seen her expression, for she nodded her agreement. "Yeah, it's pretty nasty stuff they wrote." She shrugged her shoulders. "But on the plus side, at least the Ministry has decided not to try to hunt Harry down. He'll still be in trouble if he comes back..." She blinked as she realized what she had just said. "When he comes back, I mean, but for now, he's fine." Seeing that Hermione was unconvinced, she added, "But it'll be okay. Sooner or later, everyone is going to find out the truth about You-Know-Who, and they'll know that Harry was telling the truth."

Hermione gazed at the paper. Unlike muggle pictures, wizarding pictures moved. She could still see the front picture, Fudge standing triumphantly at the press conference on Harry's disappearance, a broad smile on his fat face. She wanted nothing more than to hex him.

Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she turned her attention once more to the tea in front of her. Then a thought occurred to her, a little nagging doubt that she had had while reading the article. "Tonks," she began hesitantly, "when you were at the house, did it look like Harry had... destroyed things like the article said?" Tonks eyes opened wide in shock, and Hermione quickly added, "Not that I think Harry would. It's just, he was so angry, and, I mean, I wouldn't have ever thought he would run away, either."

Tonks shook her head. "No, Harry didn't destroy anything." She blushed, slightly. "It was probably me. I accidentally tripped and broke a plate when we first got there. You know how clumsy I am." While Hermione had noticed that Tonks seemed to be a little more accident prone than most people, she had never really thought of her as clumsy. Of course, Hermione admitted, she herself was not what most people would call well-coordinated. "I meant to fix it, but that was right when we realized that Harry was gone. I completely forgot," Tonks finished.

Hermione finished her tea in silence, and Tonks went upstairs to get a few hours' sleep before heading in to work.

Just a few more weeks until school starts, Hermione thought to herself. Of course, she wasn't sure exactly how school was supposed to make her feel better. It would be nice to be living back at the dormitory instead of this horrid house, but it wouldn't change the fact that one of her best friends was missing.

* * *

The weeks passed slowly, until it was almost time to leave for school. Every year, no matter how much Ron and Harry had teased her, she loved getting the new list of required textbooks. This year, however, she hardly even glanced at the page. Even the news that she had been selected as prefect did nothing to lift her spirits.

She walked down to breakfast. She had almost finished when the door slid open, and Ron entered, looking a little bit shocked. Seeing her questioning look, he held up a scarlet and gold prefect's badge. Hermione forced a smile.

"Ron, congratulations! Prefect, that's wonderful. Me, too," she finished lamely.

Ron sat down heavily, still looking at the badge. "It's not like it's real," he finally said. "I mean, Dumbledore didn't really want me for prefect."

Hermione didn't know how to respond. "Don't be silly, Ronald," she finally said. "Dumbledore wouldn't have chosen you otherwise."

Ron gave her a skeptical look. "Can you honestly say that you think if Harry were here, I'd still be the one holding this badge?" he asked, looking right at her.

Hermione blushed. Deep down, she knew he had a point. Ron was a good wizard, and did better than average in most of his classes (with a fair amount of help from Hermione, to be honest) but it was impossible to imagine Dumbledore choosing Ron over Harry.

"I'm just a place-holder," Ron said in a dejected voice. "Dumbledore chose me because he knows that if my best mate shows up again, I won't complain if he switches and makes Harry prefect instead."

Hermione tried to think of something to say, but Ron didn't seem to want to talk about it. Excusing herself, she went upstairs to send an owl to her parents to let them know the news.

All in all, it was a dispirited group that made their way to King's Cross Station the next day. As she walked slowly through the fake wall that lead to platform 9¾, Hermione felt hollow inside. She had first met Harry on the train on the way to Hogwarts four years ago. She remembered sitting in that compartment with he and Ron, watching as Ron attempted to turn his rat Scabbers (who, it had turned out, had really been the Animagus Peter Pettigrew) yellow. They had all been so young then. It felt like a lifetime ago.

She looked around, half hoping that she would somehow see Harry. With all of the memories that this place brought back, it was like she could feel him nearby. But she knew that was impossible.

Tonks and Mad-Eye helped them load their luggage onto the train, then walked back through the barrier. "Now you lot be careful," Mrs. Weasley was saying as she gave each of her children a hug. Hermione was amused to see that Ron was still clutching his new broomstick, a gift from his parents for being chosen as prefect.

They boarded the train, and she and Ron made her way to the front where the Prefects were to meet. She had a suspicion of who else she would see there, but she was still disappointed to discover that she had been correct.

"Why, Granger, Weasley," the familiar voice said in his typical drawl. "So nice to see you. I was worried all of the Gryffindors were going to be running away." She ignored Draco Malfoy's taunts, and sat down without a word. Draco, however, was not finished. "Congratulations, Weasley. Never figured you'd get the badge. Of course, Dumbledore's obviously scraping the bottom of the barrel. How does it feel to know you're just the back-up?" Pansy Parkinson, the Slytherin girl seated next to Draco, gave an obnoxious laugh. Ron's ears turned pink, but he didn't say a word.

An hour later, they were finally excused from the prefect's meeting. They moved quickly through the train, looking for an open compartment. She tried to ignore the whispers as people noticed them. It was common knowledge that she and Ron had been friends with Harry, and now, people were looking at them suspiciously. Probably think we're as dangerous as the Prophet has been telling them Harry is, Hermione thought to herself angrily.

Finally, they found the compartment where Ginny was sitting with Neville Longbottom, an absentminded friend of theirs. There was another girl in the compartment as well, one whom Hermione did not know.

"This is Luna Lovegood," Ginny said, gesturing to the girl. "She's my year, but in Ravenclaw." Luna looked up, her eyes distorted by the strange glasses she was wearing. "Luna, this is my brother Ron and our friend, Hermione," Ginny finished. Luna smiled politely, then returned her attention to the magazine she was reading. Hermione tried to suppress a laugh, wondering why on earth a Ravenclaw would be reading absolute rubbish like the Quibbler.

The students at Hogwarts were divided into four houses, based on their characteristics. Ravenclaw house valued knowledge, which Luna was certainly not gaining by reading that rag of newspaper, Hermione thought. Gryffindor house, of which she, Ron, Ginny, Neville, and Harry were members, valued courage and chivalry. Hufflepuff House emphasized loyalty, while the much hated Slytherin house seemed to care about nothing except how many of a person's ancestors had belonged to prominent wizarding families. Naturally, they considered muggle-born students like Hermione to be second-class citizens.

Though on principle, Hermione disagreed with the four-house system and the inevitable conflict and divisiveness it promoted, she still had to admit that even if they were all in one house together, she would never be friends with most of the Slytherins. Especially Draco. He and Harry had been enemies almost since their first day of school, and the mutual hatred and grown in the years since. Though she knew that Dumbledore valued every student, and tried to see the good in them all, she still could not imagine why he had chosen such a despicable person as prefect.

There were no attempts to make small talk in the compartment. Silence, instead, reigned for almost the entire trip. A few times, Neville looked like he was about to say something, but still, never uttered a word. Hermione gazed out the window forlornly, wondering where Harry might be. She hoped that he was safe, and happy, somehow. Perhaps he was enjoying his new-found freedom, celebrating the fact that he was no longer the object of scorn, the subject of so many whispers. Perhaps he had met new friends, and started a new life, away from the tragedy of his past. Though the idea that her friend had truly broken away from the wizarding world made her despondant, she tried to convince herself that it was true. A few tears slowly rolled down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve, and began to study her new Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook.

After several hours, the train slowed, and finally stopped. The students disembarked, and they all walked over to the horse-less carriages that would take them the rest of the way to Hogwarts. Though she was still sad, Hermione felt her spirits lifted as the large castle came into view. Despite what had happened over the summer, she knew that things would be better now that she was finally home.


	4. Chapter 4: Friends and Enemies

Chapter 4: Friends and Enemies

They were almost to the castle when Hermione finally realized what had been bothering her. Turning to Ron, she softly asked, "Did you see Hagrid down at the train?"

He looked puzzled, then shook his head.

Hermione thought for a moment. She knew that the massive teacher had been on a mission for the Order of the Phoenix. She assumed that it had something to do with giants, for Hagrid and Madam Maxime (the headmistress of Beauxbatons Academy in France) had traveled together, and they were both half-giants. While Hagrid was much larger and stronger than a human, he was no match for a full-blooded giant, she knew. The more she thought about it, the more worried she became. What if Hagrid had been injured or killed while on the operation?

As they entered the Great Hall, she quickly scanned the table at the front where the teachers sat. Hagrid was usually at the very end, although he always came late because of his duties of bringing the first years to the castle by sailing boats across the lake. Unfortunately, this time, the spot that would be reserved for him was not nearly as large as normal. Rather, it looked as though a normal person would be sitting in that chair. Still worried, Hermione turned to look at Professor Dumbledore.

She couldn't help but feel a small amount of shame as she remembered back to that night at Sirius' home. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore had forgiven her, though, or he wouldn't have chosen her as prefect.

She turned her attention back to the classmates around her. A little way off, she could see Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, whispering furtively and casting glances at her and Ron every once in a while. A few feet away, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were doing the same thing. Suppressing a groan, she decided to ignore them, realizing that they were talking about Harry. She turned her attention back to the head table, her eyes falling on one person in particular that she did not recognize.

Hermione studied this newcomer closely. She was squat, with short, curly, mouse-brown hair in which she had placed a horrible pink Alice band that matched the fluffy pink cardigan she wore over her robes. Hermione could not help but think that her pallid face and prominent, pouchy eyes made her look like some sort of oversized toad.

Just a few seconds later, the doors opened, and Professor McGonagall strode purposefully into the room, followed by the small first years. As she watched them, Hermione could not help but wonder if she had looked as terrified as they when she first came to the school. A side door opened, and Professor Grubbly-Plank, who had filled in for Hagrid teaching Care of Magical Creatures for a short time last year, entered, and sat at the spot at the end of the table where the half-giant teacher usually sat.

The Sorting Hat began to sing, but Hermione didn't pay any attention.

She quickly scanned the teacher's table, as apprehension filled her. Hermione was not overly surprised to find that the headmaster had asked Professor Grubbly-Plank back until Hagrid returned from his mission with the Order. Unfortunately, there were no other new or unexpected faces at the staff table, except, of course, for the toad-like witch. And there was only one position that needed to be filled. Hermione stifled a small groan as she realized that she was looking at her new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

She wasn't sure exactly why she was so wary of this new professor. Granted, it could have something to do with her past teachers, she thought. Lupin had taught the Defense Against the Dark Arts class her third year, but besides him, they had never had a good teacher. One had been possessed by You-Know-Who, another had been his devoted servant, and the last had been a vain (although, Hermione had to admit, extremely attractive) fool who knew absolutely nothing about the subject he had been hired to teach. Statistically speaking, it did not look good.

After they finished eating, Dumbledore made a few announcements, then the new instructor, Professor Umbridge, gave a short speech, confirming everything Hermione had feared. Though Umbridge's words had seemed pleasant enough, Hermione knew better than to take them at face value. All the little hints about upholding tradition and correcting undesirable practices made it clear that she was not here to teach the students. She was here to subvert and undermine Dumbledore's authority. Hermione tried to keep her face neutral as she realized what this meant. The new professor was loyal to Fudge, and would be working to persuade the students not to believe Dumbledore and his reports of You-Know-Who's return. She was one of the people who had made Harry's life so unpleasant for these past few months.

Hermione was introspective enough to realize that she was probably blaming Umbridge more than was fair, simply as a way to assuage her own guilty conscience over what had happened with Harry. But that didn't change the fact that Umbridge was the enemy.

* * *

The next day, Hermione strode into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, deliberately taking slow, steady breaths to try to control her anger. It had not been an easy day. As much as she hated to admit it, there had been a few times where she had found herself thinking that maybe Harry had been right to leave it all.

The day had begun with a minor disagreement with Lavender Brown, a fellow Gryffindor in her year. She and Lavender had never seen eye to eye, but this was worse than normal. Lavender was convinced that Harry had been lying, and took his absence as proof of guilt. Naturally, the disagreement had gotten a little bit heated, until eventually the two girls had been shouting at each other at the top of their lungs, while Parvati Patil, the only other 5th year Gryffindor girl, had quickly fled to the common room.

Her first class, History of Magic, had not been too bad. As usual, she was the only one paying attention, although to be fair to the other students, only a teacher as boring as Binns could make the Giant Wars seem bland. After that had come potions. Despite being a member of the Order, Professor Snape, the potions master, had always been quick to insult and belittle Harry. Not surprisingly, he devoted a few minutes from his class to expressing his thanks that his classroom this year contained one less idiotic oaf. Though he hadn't named anyone specific, his particularly malicious smile as he looked at Hermione and Ron had left no doubt in anyone's mind who he was referring to. Though Hermione had forced herself to grit her teeth and ignore his snide comments, she had been so angry that she had nearly made several critical errors in her attempts to brew a Draught of Peace. Her final product, though not perfect, was certainly the best in the class, but of course, Snape remained unimpressed.

Arithmancy had been next. She had long ago learned to adapt the mathematical skills she had learned in the muggle school she had attended before coming to Hogwarts, using those talents and her natural attention to detail to excel at the number-based magic system. Unfortunately, Arithmancy also contained a large number of Ravenclaws, who had apparently decided as a house that they did not believe what Dumbledore and Harry had been saying about You-Know-Who's return. Though she normally got along well with the eagles (the Sorting Hat had even considered putting her in their house), by the end of class she was grateful that this subject did not require a wand. The temptation to hex some of them might just have been too much for her to handle.

And now she was in class with the new teacher, who, judging by her conduct and tone of voice, thought they were a bunch of children. Hermione knew there was really nothing she could do, so she forced herself to remain calm as the professor took every opportunity to belittle her missing friend.

By the end of class, it was clear that the teacher was not worthy of the title, having absolutely no intention of instilling any knowledge at all in her pupil's minds. Rather, she was there to brainwash them into following the ministry.

Fortunately, Ron had followed her advice (reinforced with pointed glares) not to do anything to provoke the loathsome woman. Hermione knew the foul creature would be grateful for any opportunity to punish them, so she was determined that they would give her no such chance.

* * *

Weeks passed, and nothing changed. Or rather, nothing changed for the better. Hermione was still at the top of her class, but that no longer brought her the satisfaction that it once had. Her duties as prefect were becoming more and more exhausting, and she frequently felt that of all the Gryffindor prefects, she was the only one who actually cared about fulfilling her assignments. Ron certainly wasn't being much use there, especially with regards to his brothers, who had begun paying the younger students to test their prank supplies, seemingly unconcerned about the potential consequences of experimenting without appropriate oversight.

Hermione didn't understand how two surprisingly intelligent (though she would never admit that out loud) students could possibly be so stupid! Didn't they realize that all it would take is one student with an unknown medical condition causing complications with their prank products, or even just one dosage being off by a little bit, and they would be responsible for killing a student? But, of course, they somehow saw themselves as the injured party when she stepped in and forced them to stop. It was enough to make her scream.

Ron was the new keeper on the Quidditch team, and Ginny had, surprisingly, taken the seeker spot. Still, Hermione just felt hollow at the thought of attending a game without having Harry to watch.

Umbridge had gotten herself appointed "Hogwarts Head Inquisitor" and was now using every opportunity to tear down the Headmaster's supporters. Hagrid, it seemed, was her first target, something which filled Hermione with fury, but she knew that there was really nothing that she could do about it.

In short, after just one month here, Hermione was about ready to scream.

* * *

On October 10th, as usual, Hermione woke early. She showered and dressed quickly, finishing just as the other girls were waking. She walked pointedly past Lavender, with neither girl acknowledging the other (as had become their custom) and down the stairs. She paused in the common room to double check that she had all of her school supplies, then exited the tower and began to make her way down to the great hall for breakfast.

She ate quickly, though she had no real need to do so. Rather, it was that she had no desire to spend any more time in public than absolutely necessary. While things had settled down for the most part, there were still plenty of students whispering about Harry. She wondered if this is how he had felt during all the times when he had been shunned for things that weren't really his fault. Ron was too busy with Quidditch to spend much time with Hermione, and, to be honest, they really didn't have anything in common with their messy-haired friend missing.

Just as she finished eating, Hermione noticed a plain, brown owl making its way toward her. She knew what this was, of course. She loathed the idea of continuing to support the Daily Prophet given their campaign of defamation against her friend, but Hermione knew that it was wise to keep an eye on what the enemy was saying, so she faithfully read the newspaper each day when it arrived, looking closely for any clues of Harry's whereabouts, or evidence of Voldemort's return. This time, however, she didn't have to look so thoroughly to find an article that hit close to home. She stared at the horrible headline, wishing it were just a joke, but knowing deep down that it was real.

SIRIUS BLACK KILLED TRYING TO EVADE MINISTRY AURORS

She read in horror, her stomach sick at the account of the "triumph for the ministry". Sirius must have gotten careless (or desperate) while looking for Harry, and had been spotted. The _Prophet_ portrayed it as a victory for justice, with the heroic Aurors swooping in to eliminate the last real threat to a society that was now experiencing a glorious era of peace and prosperity. Hermione couldn't help but snort bitterly at that line. They would see what sort of an era they were really living in once Voldemort came out of the shadows, as he surely would sooner or later.

Hermione had often wondered what Harry was up to these days. She imagined him somehow sneaking through places like Diagon Alley, waiting for people to realize that he had been right, and that they needed him once more. In her mind's eye, she could see him eavesdropping on conversations and reading papers, waiting for some sign that the people of magical Britain had come to learn the truth. And as she thought of that, her heart dropped. She could only pray that Harry didn't learn about his godfather's fate in such a horribly callous manner.

And what if he did? Hermione's blood chilled at the thought. Sirius had been dedicated to Harry. He had broken out of Azkaban to protect his godson. He'd lived on rats up in the caves above Hogsmeade in order to be closer to Harry during the terrible tournament last year. And now he was gone.

What would Harry think? How would he respond? One less tie to the magical world. One less reason to fight for it. She couldn't imagine how Harry would feel knowing that the people were celebrating the death of someone who meant so much to him.

Harry and Hermione had tried to convince the Minister of Sirius' innocence at the end of third year, but because of Snape's lies, they had failed. She was glad that she didn't have Potions class today. She was sure the odious man would be celebrating the death of his nemesis.

* * *

Nine days later, Hermione once more read a headline that filled her with dread. This time, however, she was not the only one that felt this way.

DIAGON ALLEY IN FLAMES

DARK MARK SEEN


	5. Chapter 5: Defense Group

Chapter 5: Defense Group

While Hermione would not usually describe herself as a particularly vindictive person, she had to admit that she got a certain amount of satisfaction from seeing the fear in the eyes of the other students as they realized that maybe Harry had been right, and Voldemort really had returned. Whispers still filled the halls as she walked by, but from what she could hear, it sounded like people were beginning to accept that Harry had been telling the truth.

Unfortunately, with the good came the bad. Umbridge, likely having sensed the change in the school atmosphere, was worse than ever. Any student who was overheard in suggesting the possibility that Harry had been correct was given detention. Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, of course, still consisted of silent reading, but now there was a sort of tension to the silence that had not existed before.

And to make matters worse, she had overheard some conversations between students suggesting that Harry was to blame, having run away like that. That he had known about the threat, but, in an act of supreme cowardice, just abandoned them all, rather than staying and fighting as was his duty.

That bit of hypocrisy made Hermione want to pull out her wand and start cursing people. Not surprisingly, it was those students who had been so quick to say that Harry was a delusional liar that were now calling him a coward, as though they were somehow entitled to his protection.

Still, the fact remained that Voldemort moving in the open, or at least, more in the open than before, was a sign that things were just going to get worse. Hermione would be the first to admit that she wasn't ready to get into a fight with Death Eaters. And that was why she was standing in a deserted classroom, waiting for one of her classmates.

"Hello, Susan," Hermione said, pushing all her frustrations away as the Hufflepuff entered in order to focus solely on the upcoming discussion.

"Hello, Hermione," the red-haired girl replied. "I have to admit, I was surprised to get your note. What exactly do you want to talk about?"

"Correct me if I am wrong, but it was my understanding that your aunt is the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Is that correct?" Hermione asked.

Susan's expression of pleasant curiosity faded into one of guarded suspicion. "Yes, that's correct. Why do you care?"

"Obviously, our current Defense professor isn't going to actually teach us what we need to know in this dangerous climate," Hermione began.

"That's not something my aunt can control," Susan stated flatly.

"No, that wasn't my point. It's clear that if we can't rely on the teachers to give us the information we need, then we have a responsibility to find it for ourselves. I was thinking it would be wise to start a small group focusing on learning defense skills. We can practice together and teach each other what we know. It's not perfect, but it's certainly better than relying solely on Umbridge's lessons. And it seemed to me that the niece of the Head of the DMLE might know a bit more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than the average student."

Susan looked a little embarrassed. "Sorry, I've had some people try to persuade me to try to influence my aunt, or just befriend me hoping to develop some sort of connection there. I'm just a little sensitive to it." She frowned. "I think it's a good idea, but I have to admit, I'm not really all that good at DADA. I do alright, but it's not like I've gotten special training outside of school or anything. Truth is, despite what many people expect, I'm not planning on being an Auror. So, while I think the idea sounds great, I don't really have anything that I could add to it."

Hermione did her best to hide her disappointment. "That's alright, I knew it was a bit of a long shot anyway." She looked off into the distance, eyes unseeing. "If Harry were here, I think he would do a great job at something like that, but I don't know who else to approach. I know spells and theory, but I have no way of determining if my knowledge is actually applicable to the real-world situations we might be facing. Harry's the only one I know of, outside the teachers, of course, that's actually fought Death Eaters and lived."

Susan's face fell, likely at the reminder that the Hufflepuff champion, Cedric Diggory, had not lived through his encounter with Voldemort's forces. "Well, if we don't have an expert, we can still learn from each other. That's got to be better than nothing. Maybe we take turns, each person studies and learns one spell, then presents what they learned to the group. That way, we're still learning more useful spells without having to take the time to research them for ourselves."

"I suppose that works well enough. I just think it would be very helpful if we had someone with some actual experience, rather than relying on guesswork."

The other girl looked pensive for a moment. "I suppose I could write a letter to my aunt, asking if she had any ideas of spells to learn. That way, we can be sure that we're not wasting our time on useless spells."

Hermione brightened. "That's a great idea."

* * *

Susan's aunt, unsurprisingly, had a great deal of advice for the two girls, both in terms of spells to learn, and various drills to help develop the ability to cast rapidly and accurately.

"This is something I never would have thought of," Hermione admitted in the deserted classroom where she and Susan had met to go over Susan's aunt's ideas. "I'm always so focused on casting a spell perfectly that the idea of 'just cast something as fast as you can' is completely foreign to me."

"It does make sense though," Susan replied, still panting in the corner as she tried to get her breathing under control after running through the drill. Amelia Bones had pointed out that in any sort of magical combat situation, a moving target was much harder to hit than a stationary one, so it was important to practice running while casting. It was far more strenuous than it sounded, the girls had discovered. "Like Auntie said, five poorly-cast spells are better than one cast perfectly."

"And the spells don't even have to be on target," Hermione remembered. "Just so long as they're close, and don't hit any of your allies. It's a good thing you thought to contact her. It's obvious now that I think about, but I never would have realized that on my own."

"So, we've got a list of spells that we should learn, and some drills that we can use to practice casting under realistic conditions," Susan stated. "Should we start talking to other students, bring them into this? I know that Hannah's getting curious about where I've been going these past few days. I think she would like to learn."

"I can think of a few in Gryffindor that would be interested as well," Hermione agreed. "But I think the most important thing is finding a way to keep it all a secret from Umbridge. I had an idea about that."

Susan looked at her for a moment. "What is this idea?" the Hufflepuff asked when it was clear that Hermione wasn't going to continue.

Hermione was a bit reluctant to respond, but felt that it was probably a good idea to let her partner know her plans. "I did a little bit of research, and found a way to enchant a piece of parchment so that anybody who signs is bound to certain conditions. I was thinking of putting the condition that if anybody tells Umbridge, there's some sort of penalty. Pimples spelling 'sneak' on their forehead, for example."

"No one would sign that!" Susan exclaimed.

"They wouldn't have to know," Hermione suggested.

Susan's horrified expression made her opinion clear, but that didn't stop her from responding. "No offense, Hermione, but that's a terrible idea. First off, using magic on people that are on our side without their permission is not right. Second, it doesn't actually solve the problem. It punishes anyone who tells Umbridge, but unless they have been informed of the enchantment, it doesn't deter them from doing so. And it makes it clear that we have something to hide." Seeing that Hermione was about to respond, Susan raised her hand to stop her friend and continued. "Yes, we want to keep this away from Umbridge, but we aren't actually doing anything wrong. If you start enchanting things to curse people, the Aurors will respond, and it won't be pleasant for you. That's the type of thing that can get you sent to Azkaban."

"Then what do you propose?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound bitter at how harshly Susan had rejected her idea.

"We ask people not to tell Umbridge! Remind everyone to be discreet when discussing the group, and vary up the meeting times so that she doesn't notice any patterns," Susan replied.

"You really think that will be enough?" Hermione's skepticism was clear.

"I think it will have to do, unless you have a better idea that doesn't involve tricking people into unknowingly signing a magically-enforced contract," the redhead replied hotly, before her expression softened. "Look, if Umbridge does find out, we can reevaluate our options then, but for now, there's no point in putting ourselves in a precarious position from the start. If we limit the group to people that we feel we can trust, we probably won't have any problems."

"Is that really fair, though? I mean, shouldn't everybody have the chance to learn to defend themselves?" Hermione objected.

"Then they can learn on their own," Susan said bluntly. "The more people we tell, the more chances that somebody will tell Umbridge, deliberately or by accident. If we keep the group small, we'll have a better chance of going undetected."

It still didn't sit right with Hermione that learning should be restricted to a lucky few, but she had to admit that the other girl was right. "So, when should we start this?"

Susan shrugged. "Meet here tomorrow after dinner? I'll bring Hannah, and maybe Ernie. We can add more people later if we want."

While her first thought had been to have some sort of inaugural meeting, Hermione had to admit that maybe keeping things simple was the better idea. "Okay. I think Ron and Neville would do well. Maybe Dean, but it would probably be better to let one of the boys tell him, rather than me bringing it up to him directly."

"Great," Susan said. "I'll see you tomorrow after dinner. Now I need to go. I promised Hannah I'd meet her in the library to go over charms," the redhead added as she gathered her things and made her way to the exit.

After the Hufflepuff girl had gone, Hermione remained in the room, thinking. It was different having to cooperate with somebody that was not afraid to express their own opinions or views. Harry and Ron tended to be more passive, allowing her to make decisions for the group, which they then followed through on without complaint. Susan, of course, was not that type of person. And, if Hermione was honest with herself, that was probably a good thing.

Looking back, it was clear that Susan had been correct. Hermione's idea of the cursed parchment was not nearly as good in hindsight as it had appeared when she first conceived of it. Any number of things could have gone wrong. Would the jinx have activated if a person had accidentally revealed something? And how much would have to be revealed before the spell took effect? Not to mention the ethical issues that came with using magic on fellow students and nominal allies without their permission.

Hermione frowned as a less pleasant thought came to mind. She had been so angry with the headmaster over the summer because of his decision to isolate Harry, and the outcome that decision had produced. If only somebody had been willing to disagree with him; to tell him that it was a bad idea. But, given her current situation, she had to wonder if she was really so different.

She liked to think that she was the smart one, and that Harry and Ron would always be best served by listening to her, but Susan had quite thoroughly debunked that idea by showing how foolish her plan had been. And that opened the door to other doubts. Had some of her previous decisions been flawed in some way that she had not seen? Would things be different, be better now if she had sought advice or input from Harry, rather than simply pushing him into agreeing to do things her way? Was she, in some way, to blame for the current situation?

Ideas came to mind of times where she might have made different choices that could have produced more ideal outcomes. Perhaps there would have been a way to capture Pettigrew as well as saving Sirius at the end of third year. Harry might have been able to come up with a plan if she hadn't been so quick to take charge. Or what about her choice to blackmail Rita Skeeter a few months ago? Did that play some part in the debacle she found herself in now?

It was an unpleasant train of thought, but it was difficult to turn her mind to other matters. In the end, it was an unsettled, yet introspective girl that exited the room, still deep in thought as she made her way back to the Gryffindor dormitory.

* * *

The first meeting of the defense group was not quite what Hermione had envisioned. Rather than a group of students proudly declaring their intention to cast off the yoke of ignorance the ministry was attempting to force upon them, five teenagers were gathered in a grimy classroom in an unused part of the castle, discussing plans to learn the spells Amelia Bones had sent them. Ernie had to leave early, and Neville arrived late because he had forgotten about the meeting, but Hermione, Susan, Hannah, and Ron were there for the whole time. The whole time turned out to be only about an hour and a half, but still, it was productive. Hermione and Susan demonstrated some of the drills they had been practicing, and each of the students selected a spell that they would learn and prepare to explain to the group.

Hermione would be the first, having agreed to teach on a large-area disorientation spell on Tuesday of the next week. She had to admit that having such a small group made scheduling much easier than she had anticipated. With the exception of Ron's Quidditch practice, none of the students had any regular activities that might conflict with a meeting of the defense group. And if she were brutally honest with herself, Hermione doubted that Ron would be an avid participant in these meetings. Without Harry to push him, he seemed to be reverting more and more to his apparent default of focusing solely on Quidditch and chess. She'd heard a number of complaints from the other prefects regarding his performance in the position, or lack thereof.

She'd tried to encourage him to take his duties more seriously, but that hadn't had any real effect. Or, more precisely, not the effect that she had wanted. Instead, the boy had gotten defensive and surly. If anything, now Ron was even worse, though they had resumed speaking to each other after a few days.

In short, it was more apparent than ever that Harry had been the glue that held the trio together. It was times like this that Hermione missed him more than she could say.

* * *

Weeks passed, and the atmosphere in the castle had settled into a sort of watchful tension. There had been no further attacks, but it seemed all of the students were dreading (or anticipating, in the case of some of the more loathsome examples of humanity, such as Draco Malfoy) the inevitable when the other shoe finally dropped.

And drop, it did. As the students were anticipating the upcoming holidays, many excited at the chance to return home and get away from the oppressive aura that Umbridge had brought to Hogwarts, the Daily Prophet announced a mass breakout from Azkaban. Hermione read quickly, horrified to learn that ten of Voldemort's top Death Eaters had managed to escape. Cornelius Fudge, of course, had tried to deflect blame from his administration by claiming that Sirius Black had set the escape in motion before his death, but offered no explanation for exactly how such a feat had been accomplished, given that Sirius had been dead for two months. While the Prophet wasn't willing to come right out and contradict the Minister, it was clear that people weren't satisfied with the official explanation.

Hermione glanced over at Neville, who had gone white with shock when he saw the headline, and now, seemed to be turning red with rage. Given that, according to the paper, Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured and permanently incapacitated two people she assumed to be his parents, that was certainly understandable.

* * *

Not surprisingly, there was a sort of fervent energy present at the next meeting of the defense group that had been missing before. Everyone knew that the stakes had been raised. With Voldemort now being supported once again by some of his most loyal followers, it was only a matter of time before the war began in earnest. While Hermione had to admit that this affected her on a purely theoretical level since she hadn't had any connection to the wizarding world during the first war, the others in the group had been impacted in a much more personal way. Neville, having lost his parents, was probably the most affected, but the others had lost family as well. Susan had lost an aunt, uncle and cousins to Death Eaters. Ron's uncles Gideon and Fabian had been killed by Antonin Dolohov. Ernie had two cousins who had been killed, while another committed suicide after being forced under the imperius to burn down a neighbor's home, killing not only the wife, who was a muggle-born, but also two young children.

"I think we should invite more people," Ernie said after the group had finished. "I know we originally kept it small to keep it a secret, but I doubt most people would tell Umbridge now. Not with everything that's at stake."

"Ginny and the twins have been getting suspicious about where I've been going," Ron mentioned. "I'm sure they'd like to join."

"I think Dean would as well. He's a muggle-born, or at least, he doesn't have any proof that he's not. He's mentioned a few times that he's worried about Death Eaters coming for him or his family," Neville added.

"Same with Justin. And I know Wayne would like to learn more," Ernie stated.

"I think we should probably invite all of the muggle-born," Hannah suggested. "They're the ones most at risk, right?"

"Do we really need to keep it secret anymore?" Neville wondered. "I mean, with so much happening, Fudge is losing a lot of ground with his refusal to consider that You-Know-Who might be back. Would anybody really object to us learning and practicing together?"

"I think Umbridge would still try to stop us, but I agree that we should bring in more people," Hermione replied.

"So, everybody tell people that you think might be interested. If Umbridge does find out, we'll pretend that we just barely started, so they can't punish us," Susan suggested.

Everyone seemed to be in agreement. It was a bit of a relief for Hermione, now having the option to bring others into the group.

And even if Umbridge did find out, how bad could it really be?

* * *

A/N – I always thought the idea presented in the books that Harry is some sort of expert on magical combat to be utterly ridiculous. First, it's implied that Hermione learned all the same spells that Harry learned for the Tri-Wiz. And when we ignore the deus ex machina from the first two books, Harry's real combat experience consisted of casting one spell (expelliarmus) when surrounded by Death Eaters who were specifically told not to attack him. And of course, he only survived that encounter due to another fine example of deus ex machina. (For anyone who doesn't know, deus ex machina is the term for when the hero wins not because of skill, but because of a lucky turn of events that could not have been predicted, such as Harry's skin burning Quirrell, or the brother effect of the wands, or Fawkes somehow sensing Harry's dedication to Dumbledore and showing up with the sorting hat which has the lost sword of Gryffindor)


	6. Chapter 6: Making a Stand

Chapter 6: Making a Stand

Hermione looked around the room, smiling a little as a small feeling of pride welled up inside her. The DG, as they now called themselves, had grown drastically over the past few months. Now, more than thirty students came to each meeting, with members from all years and every house except for Slytherin.

The students were gathered in pairs, practicing a broad-area banishing spell that Hannah had just taught them. Beside her, Neville and Dean were trading off, one casting the banisher while the other shielded, an intense, almost angry expression on both their faces. A little further away, Colin Creevey, the Gryffindor boy in the year just below her that was so obsessed with Harry, was trying to cast the spell at a familiar-looking blonde Ravenclaw his age, though his wand movements were so sloppy that she doubted he would be successful. Lavendar and Parvati had both joined the group as well, though Hermione and Lavendar were still barely speaking to each other.

Hermione turned her attention back to the task at hand. Several paces away, Susan was watching her, wand at the ready. Trying to provide as little warning as possible, Hermione brought her wand up into the 'sweep and jab' motion that Hannah had demonstrated earlier. The soft blue light of the banisher sped toward the red-haired girl in front of her, who was already beginning to cast a shield charm. Susan completed her spell just in time, and Hermione's banisher dissipated against her friend's magical protection.

"Good one," the Hufflepuff commented.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, but made no response, watching carefully for when her partner retaliated. She didn't have long to wait. As Susan began to cast, Hermione concentrated on the effect she wanted, and pushed her wand forward, just as she had practiced. To her relief, the shield charm sprang into being around her. It wasn't nearly as solid as when she used a verbal incantation and used the associated wand movements, but it was still a decent shield nonetheless.

"Wow, silent point casting? You've been practicing," the buxom red-head said with a small pout.

"I'm just glad I got it up in time. I'm still only successful about 30% of the time," Hermione admitted.

"That's still more than…" Susan cut off with a small yelp as she dodged out of the way of Hermione's disorientation hex, a useful spell that Ernie had presented to the group last week.

"Trying to curse me while I'm giving you a complement?" Susan cried in mock indignation. "Gryffindors!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Hermione called an end to the practicing so that the students would have enough time to return to their dormitories before curfew.

"Everyone did very well tonight. Keep practicing, and we'll see you all on Friday," she said.

She had planned on staying for a few minutes to help Hannah tidy up the room, but a loud argument in the hallway just outside the room drew her attention. She pushed her way through the crowd to see a young Ravenclaw girl in glaring in tears at Colin's younger brother Dennis.

"It's not like it's going to matter," the girl bit out. "Potter ran away. There's nothing the rest of us can really do."

Taking a closer look at the Ravenclaw, Hermione suddenly realized why the girl, Orla Quirke, was so emotional. Her aunt had been the latest in a string of 'disappearances' for which the Ministry had no explanation. Everyone suspected that these people were dead, but there was no proof.

"We just need to keep practicing so that when Harry comes back, we're ready to help him," Dennis countered.

It pained Hermione to see that very few people in the group shared the young Gryffindor's optimism. To be honest, even Hermione was little skeptical that she would ever see her raven-haired friend again.

"This isn't about Harry," she interjected, drawing all eyes to her. "I don't know for sure what Harry will do in the future, but we all need to learn to defend ourselves. If you're attacked, if you have the necessary skills, you might be able to escape. That's the important thing here. We'll leave the fighting to the Aurors," she concluded firmly, making sure that both of the Creeveys got the message. At times, they were a little too Gryffindorish, frequently bemoaning the fact that they couldn't just rush out and confront the Death Eaters right now.

"Now everyone needs to get back to their common rooms. And go quickly. I don't want to hear about anyone being caught out after curfew," Susan said in a no-nonsense tone as she exited the room.

The crowd dispersed, and Hermione and Susan shared a look as they checked to ensure that Hannah didn't need any more assistance.

"Do you think Potter will come back?" Susan asked in a soft voice.

Hermione gazed levelly at her friend, unable to keep the lingering anger out of her voice as she replied, "I don't know. After how he was treated last year, and in second year, and even in first year, I'm not sure how much he wants to come back." Her glare softened, and she looked down sadly. "Though I will admit that part of that is also due to some poor decisions on the part of myself and Ron over the summer."

Susan looked a little surprised but didn't press the issue as Hannah swept out of the room, and the three girls went their separate ways.

* * *

The worst of winter had passed, and spring was drawing near when their luck finally ran out.

The door flew open, and several people shrieked in surprise.

"Caught in the act!" Umbridge yelled as she walked (or rather, waddled) into the room, accompanied by several members of her hand-picked goon squad.

The others backed away from the woman, forcing Hermione to push through the mass of startled students to the front. Though she was slightly concerned at the malicious grins on the faces of the Inquisitorial Squad, and the fact that they already had their wands in hand, she forced an innocent expression on her face.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but I'm not sure what you're referring to. What act have we been caught in?" Hermione inquired.

"Practicing skills which the Ministry has deemed unacceptable," the toad-like professor shrieked. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

"When were these skills deemed unacceptable?" Susan asked innocently. "We are practicing basic skills for Defense Against the Dark Arts. Surely you, as the professor of such an important subject, would approve of us preparing for our tests."

"You're not preparing for your tests, you're preparing to fight against the Ministry. Nothing here follows what I have been teaching you in accordance with the official Ministry guidelines!"

"As I understand it, Hogwarts has always urged the students to excel. We are encouraged to go above and beyond the minimum requirements for class," Hermione pointed out. "Thus, we haven't broken any laws or school rules."

"We'll see about that," Umbridge vowed in as threating a voice as she could (which, Hermione thought, really wasn't all that frightening) before storming out of the room.

* * *

It didn't take long for the rumor mill to figure out what had happened. Two of the members had been careless while discussing the group in the library, oblivious to the fact that Pansy Parkinson had been listening to every word from one aisle over.

While the group was not punished, Umbridge did manage to force through a decree banning all unapproved organizations, societies, teams, groups and clubs (defined as a regular meeting of three or more students). Fred's suggestion that they bypass the decree by changing the group's name to the Defense Association and requiring all members to behave very oddly (such as hanging tinsel from their noses) to make the meetings as irregular as possible was ignored. Of course, that didn't stop him and George from skipping class the next day on the grounds that Educational Decree Number Twenty-four had disbanded all classes as well, and they had not been informed that the High Inquisitor had granted permission for said classes to be re-formed. To the surprise of absolutely no one in the Great Hall, the professors ignored the twins' claims that they were just trying to follow the rules.

In the end, though, the members of the Defense Group decided it was best to lay low for the time being. It was clear to everyone monitoring the political situation that Fudge was in desperate straits. More and more unexplained attacks were being reported, and even the Daily Prophet, which had previously supported the Ministry in their persecution of Harry, was now beginning to ask uncomfortable questions, questions for which Fudge and his lackeys had no good answer.

With less than a month to go before OWL's, Hermione was actually somewhat grateful for the extra time to prepare. That all changed one morning when the Daily Prophet appeared, announcing the most devastating Death Eater raid yet. With fourteen people dead, six of them children below Hogwarts age, the attack was a true tragedy, and yet, Minister Fudge continued to bury his head in the sand, refusing to even consider the possibility that Voldemort had returned.

As she looked up at the paper, Hermione turned her eyes to the Hufflepuff table, where Susan was staring at her intently. Both girls nodded, not needing words to confirm what the other was thinking. In this dangerous environment, learning to defend themselves was more important than bowing to the whims of a tyrannical educator.

They would just have to find a way to ensure that the toad-like teacher didn't discover what they were doing.

* * *

"Fake galleons?" Hannah asked, her voice filled with horror. "Do you have any idea what the goblins would do if they caught wind of that?"

Hermione paused. "That's a good point," she admitted, and it was. Counterfeiting was illegal in the muggle world as well, and at least the muggles didn't have to worry about accidentally triggering another one of those goblin rebellions that Binns loved to drone on about.

"What about just putting it on a bracelet or a ring?" Susan suggested. "And how would we use these protean charms anyway?"

"My original thought was to use it to send a message of when and where the next meeting would be, but I came up with a different idea while I was thinking about it last night. If we create, say, half a dozen of these and give them to people who are standing around in the hallways, they can give us a warning to disperse if Umbridge or her goons get close. As long as they don't catch us in the act, they can't prove that we did anything wrong," Hermione explained.

"They could check to see what spells we've been casting," Hannah argued.

"It's not the spells that are against the rules, we're fine to practice those by ourselves or in pairs. It's meeting as a group that has been banned," Susan countered. "I think that having guards should work well enough. It's better than anything I've been able to come up with."

* * *

To Hermione's great relief, the first meeting of the re-formed Defense Group was a great success. With the attacks outside of Hogwarts intensifying, everyone was determined to learn the skills that may one day save themselves and their loved ones. The classroom they had chosen was in a deserted part of the castle on the fifth floor, accessible through only three corridors. The Weasley twins had pledged that one of them would always be on guard duty (since they were almost always joined at the hip, whichever had been keeping watch could just learn from the other on their own time) while Hermione set up a rotation to cover the other two positions. Today, Neville was guarding the west passage, while Luna Lovegood, the eccentric fourth year Ravenclaw, guarded the east.

To ensure that nobody noticed the same people always disappearing at the same time, they'd decided to arrange a system of smaller groups meeting at varying times, with people switching which group they met with each week. Different times, different people… it made coordination a nightmare, but if it kept Umbridge from learning of their defiance, it was all worth it.

As the students slowly trickled out of the room, careful to spread out their departures so as not to form an obvious group, Hermione couldn't suppress a grim smile that spread across her face. While her parents had taught her to be respectful of authority, and she had always had a natural inclination to respect her teachers, she couldn't deny that this sort of defiance felt good. She truly, completely and utterly loathed Dolores Umbridge, and finding a way to strike back was incredibly cathartic, even though the foul excuse for a professor would hopefully never know about it.

* * *

The approaching tests brought another source of stress for the bushy-haired girl. A black market of goods that would supposedly help promote understanding and retention had sprung up, requiring even more time from the prefects to ensure that the students were not being swindled. And wasting their money on useless "potions" was not the only risk. Some of the supposed memory aids were actually quite dangerous, something that Justin Finch-Fletchley discovered firsthand when he had to spend the night in the infirmary after taking some of the powdered dragon claw Harold Dingle was selling. Though, to be fair, he hadn't been all that sick until Madam Pomfrey had informed him that what he had eaten was actually dried doxy droppings, at which point he vomited all over the floor.

So much was riding on the outcome of these tests, and yet, Hermione had difficultly caring. While normally she prided herself on her scholastic performance, now, she was largely apathetic. Oh, she still strove to do her best, but in her quiet moments late at night, she wondered if she even wanted to remain a part of the wizarding world. Her parents had strongly encouraged her to keep up on her non-magical studies as well, so it shouldn't be too difficult to get the necessary credentials to get into a decent university if she chose to return to the society she had grown up in. Before, she would never have imagined such a thing, but with how dangerous things were becoming with Voldemort's return, that might be best.

No, that was a lie. The danger from Voldemort was only an excuse. The truth was, if Harry were still here, she would be standing by his side come hell or high water. But with him gone…

Hermione pushed that thought away, turning her focus back to the charms assignment Flitwick had given them earlier that day.

* * *

Hermione looked around the room, watching to ensure that there were no problems as the defense group practiced the sound dampening spell Neville had just taught them. With a much larger area of effect than a standard _silencio_, this spell could be very useful for hiding or sneaking away without being heard. Unfortunately, it still required care not to make any loud noises, as the sound was merely dampened, not eliminated completely. But still, it was better than nothing.

She had just glanced at her watch, wondering if it was about time to dismiss the group when George burst into the room, his face a mask of determination and resolve.

"Umbridge is right outside," he announced as he spun around and cast a spell at the door.

Silence filled the room as everyone stared in horror. They could hear the professor's shouts of anger as she tried ineffectually to enter the room.

"How did she find out?" Neville asked. Hermione was wondering as well, but wasn't really sure this was the time.

"I think Edgecombe told her. She certainly didn't warn anybody when the toad walked right past her," George snarled.

"So, what do we do?" a small Hufflepuff asked in a scared voice.

"Relax, George and I have this under control," Fred responded as he walked over to a box in one corner, one that Hermione had never really noticed before.

"We figured that Umbridge might figure it out eventually, so we decided to prepare some surprises," George explained as he joined his twin.

Hermione and Neville shared a glance. _So much for us being in charge here_, the girl thought.

"So, what can we do to help?" she asked, keeping her voice steady with some effort.

"Pass these out," Fred replied as he handed her a stack of… hats?

Pushing her confusion aside, Hermione took one and passed the stack on to one of the other students, then began to study the object in her hands. It was indeed, a small, pointed hat, with a fluffy, pink feather stuck in the brim.

"What are these for?" she inquired.

"Headless Hats," Fred said. "Put it on, and it makes your head invisible. If they can't see your face, they can't prove you were here."

With no small amount of trepidation at the idea of trusting the notorious pranksters, Hermione carefully placed the enchanted hat on her head.

Beside her, Neville gasped. "It worked," the boy exclaimed in wonder, before quickly donning his own hat. Precisely as promised, Neville's head vanished from view, leaving just his body. Soon, all of the other students were similarly headless.

A heavy thud at the door echoed throughout the room, drawing everyone's attention. "Wow, they really want to get in here," Fred remarked in an incredibly casual voice.

"Yes, they certainly do," his twin agreed, just as calmly.

Fred turned to look at the defense group. "Now, my less handsome twin and I are going to go cause some minor bits of mischief to lead the illustrious Inquisitor away. Hide in the corners for a few minutes, then make a break for it. Once you're far enough away, get rid of the hat and pretend like you've been doing something perfectly innocent for the past hour. We've still got plenty of time before curfew, so they have no reason to punish you if they find you wandering around."

Hermione knew that Umbridge likely wouldn't care about such unimportant issues as 'proof of guilt' when trying to assign punishments, but she didn't raise that concern. In truth, she was probably the one Umbridge was really hoping to discipline. And if it came down to it, Hermione was determined to face what came like a true Gryffindor.

Another loud bang sounded, Hermione looked over to see that the door was beginning to break. Unconcerned, Fred and George walked over to the door, wide grins on their faces.

"Who is it?" Fred called in an innocent voice.

The only response was muffled yelling. Glancing over at his twin, who had his hands full of… something that Hermione couldn't quite make out, Fred held up three fingers, then slowly counted down. When he hit zero, he wrenched the door open, and George tossed whatever he had been holding out into the corridor. Before anyone could react, Fred slammed the door shut again.

Bangs, booms, whistles and tweets sounded, along with what Hermione thought might be a cowbell. The noise was almost deafening even through the door, so the girl could only image how bad it had been for the people outside. Not that Hermione had any sympathy for Umbridge and her little squad of bigots.

The door flew open once more and the Weasley twins rushed out, identical voices raised in a battle cry of "Down with the Inquisitor!" Umbridge's indignant shrieks could be heard getting fainter and fainter. _Are they dragging her away?_ Hermione didn't have time to contemplate this thought, for an all too familiar face appeared at the door. Hermione's wand was moving before she even had time to think.

Draco Malfoy had just opened his mouth to shout something when the stunner hit. He fell to the ground, his head hitting against the door frame, though Hermione couldn't bring herself to care. She rushed to the door, looking for any indication that other members of the Inquisitorial Squad had remained behind, but it seemed Malfoy had been the only one.

"Let's go," she ordered. "Split up, and get rid of the hats once you think you're safe," she repeated Fred's instructions.

The students raced out of the room without complaint. Once she had confirmed that everyone had left, Hermione followed suit, dashing down a side corridor that led to a rarely used spiral staircase. Dropping the hat down the center, she darted up the stairs, exiting one level up, then paused for a moment to compose herself.

Doing her best to appear nonchalant, she walked over to the main staircase and began to make her way to the Great Hall. It was, after all, almost time for supper.

As she walked, she took the opportunity to look around, and found herself unwillingly impressed at just how much chaos the twins could cause when they really wanted to. Swirling orbs about the size of a basketball were bouncing around the halls, leaving paint marks wherever they hit. Large birds, red with yellow bellies, were divebombing any Slytherin they saw, cawing triumphantly whenever they managed to peck one of their targets. An unholy eldritch abomination with far too many limbs and mouths was creeping down a corridor, leaving a disgusting trail of slime behind. And that was just the beginning.

As Hermione drew closer to the Great Hall, she could see a large crowd gathered down near the main Hogwarts entrance. With a glance over at Neville, who had emerged from a side corridor just ahead of her, she began to make her way over to the throng.

Umbridge was standing there, covered in feathers and furiously kicking at a large toad which just managed to avoid her foot each time. Finally, she gave it up, and concentrated on the two Gryffindors who were standing between her and the door. "You two will beg for mercy when I am done with you," she shouted.

"I highly doubt it," Fred said unconcernedly. "What do you think, George?"

"I think it's time we go out there and see if we can make our way in the real world," George responded.

"I couldn't agree more," the other boy replied.

Both raised their wands in eerie synchrony. "_Malumaria,_" they cried, their voices matching perfectly.

A thick, pink cloud emerged from the wands. All the spectators, student and teacher alike, fell to the ground, trying to protect themselves from the unknown spell, but it was unnecessary. The bright cloud hovered in front of them, gradually coalescing into a shape, which Hermione finally recognized as three W's, the pink color shifting gradually to blue, then green.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the twins had produced their brooms from somewhere and were now hovering about fifteen feet above the crowd.

"Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, for all your pranking needs!" Fred called out. "Come visit us at number ninety-three, Diagon Alley!"

"Special discounts to Hogwarts students who promise to use our products on the pink toad!" George added.

"GET THEM," Umbridge roared, but not a spell was cast.

Both boys turned to fly out the door, but at the last second, Fred stopped and looked back into the school.

"Give her hell from us, Peeves."

Peeves saluted crisply, then began to cackle madly. As she watched her… friends? Yes, Hermione decided after a moment of introspection, her friends fly out the door and into the magnificent sunset beyond, she couldn't help but laugh.

_I guess that's what happens when you back two crazy pranksters into a corner._ It was a lesson that Umbridge would certainly never forget.


	7. Chapter 7: OWL's and Toads

Chapter 7: OWL's and Toads

Hermione didn't even bother to hide the smirk on her face as she saw Umbridge running… or rather, waddling down the hallway chasing after one of the Weasley twins' fireworks, with Filch and two of the Inquisitorial Squad at her heels. It was just another fine example of the chaos that now reigned at Hogwarts. Students of all houses, even Slytherin (to Hermione's surprise) had chosen to rise up in defiance of Umbridge's supposed authority, unleashing a near constant storm of prank products, spells, and general mayhem that must be driving the High Inquisitor near to insanity, given her increasingly vitriolic rants. The toad in question, of course, had responded by doubling down on the tyranny, supported by the Minister, in an attempt to crush any resistance.

Not that she was likely to be successful anytime soon. The other staff members were making no effort to support their supposed colleague, some, in fact, even going so far as to help the students in small ways. And that was to say nothing of Peeves, who had taken Fred's parting wish to heart.

Though the Defense Group's meetings had been put on indefinite hold, that didn't stop them from using what they had learned, with most of the DG members being among the most active of the student rebels. Hermione suspected that they had formed into smaller groups to coordinate their efforts, but she deliberately made no effort to confirm her suspicions, given that she was undoubtedly being watched closely, and would be hauled in to be interrogated at the first hint that she was participating in the defiance against the 'Ministry's rightful authority'.

No, for now, she would keep her nose clean and stay out of the chaos in Hogwarts entirely. OWL's were coming up, after all, and she wanted to do her best, though privately she had to admit that she wasn't quite as concerned about the tests as she had been.

Given her complete innocence with regards to the mayhem in the school, she was surprised when she was summoned to the Headmaster's office just a week before OWL's were to begin. She hadn't spoken to the man since that evening so long ago when Harry had… chosen a different but very understandable path.

After passing the gargoyle and ascending the escalator-like staircase, she knocked on the large wooden door, trying to calm her rapidly beating heart. She couldn't help but wonder why the headmaster had requested her presence. One thing was certain, she doubted that she had been called for anything good.

On hearing Dumbledore's call of 'Enter', Hermione opened the door and was surprised to see the wizened headmaster looking more tired and beaten down than ever before. She took a seat in front of his desk, waiting for him to speak, but he remained silent, staring at a small box in front of him.

"Headmaster?" she asked in a small voice. "What is it? Why did you call me here?"

Dumbledore finally tore his gaze away from the cardboard box, looking at her with tear-filled eyes. Dread pooled in Hermione's stomach. "I am sorry to have to be the one to inform you of this, but Harry Potter was found dead by muggle authorities last week," he said softly.

Her breath caught in her throat. Hermione stared at the man, hoping that somehow it was a mistake. Or a joke. Or a… a… a something! Something that would mean that her best friend was not truly gone.

"How?" she finally croaked.

"It appears that he had been living on the streets for some time. He was killed when one of the other young men in a similar situation attacked him," Dumbledore replied, his voice little more than a whisper.

"That… no… it…" Hermione's thoughts were racing, but all her intelligence failed her. No amount of knowledge or cleverness could solve this problem. "Why are you telling me?" she finally asked.

Dumbledore glanced down at the box once more. "When the Aurors investigated, they found some of his possessions in a tunnel in muggle London. Included was a simple, hand-written will. He left a few small bequests, such as his Firebolt going to Ronald Weasley, and the Marauder's Map being returned to the Weasley twins, though neither item has been found, and a generous amount being gifted to the Weasley parents for welcoming him into their home. He left the rest of his possessions to you, stating that he knew you will use the money well."

Hermione made no response; she simply stared in horror, still struggling to comprehend what she was hearing.

"These are the possessions that were found in the tunnel," the headmaster continued as he pushed the cardboard box a little closer to her. "The key to Harry's Gringotts vault is in there as well. It's yours now, though I would warn you that some in the ministry may protest that inheritance. Harry was Sirius' primary heir, and though Lucius Malfoy tried to dispute it, he was unsuccessful given the attacks shortly after Sirius' death. As such, you have just inherited the combined fortune of both the Potters and the Blacks. There are many who will not approve of you receiving such wealth."

Tears were now streaming down Hermione's face, but she made no effort to hide them. Her best friend was dead. Numbly, she grabbed the box and left, still not saying a word.

It was good that she was so familiar with the strange and confusing corridors of Hogwarts, for she didn't pay any attention as she walked back to Gryffindor tower. A few people greeted her as she entered, but she had no desire to speak with anyone. Instead, she retreated swiftly to the privacy of her bed, drawing the curtains closed. Only then did she finally break down, her sobs filling the room as she stared at the box that held the only mementos of the boy who had changed her life.

* * *

Hermione was sure that there was plenty of speculation about why she had been so clearly distressed, but, unfortunately, the student body didn't have to wait long to find the real cause. It was on the headline of the Daily Prophet the next morning. And while many people reacted with horror or grief (though a cynical part of her wondered if they were mourning Harry, or their precious Boy-Who-Lived who they were convinced would save them from Voldemort), there were some who, to her absolute fury, seemed more inclined to celebrate, such as Umbridge and Malfoy.

A burning hatred filled her heart, and she swore that somehow, someday, she would make them pay.

* * *

"What's this about, Hermione?" Susan asked as they met in a deserted corner of the library.

"Thanks for coming, Susan. You, too, Neville," Hermione said softly. "I've had some time to think, and now that we know that Harry really is… that he's…" her face contorted in pain and misery, but she forced back the tears that threatened to fall. "That we'll have to do this without him," she finally managed to choke out, "I think we need to try the more direct method. I contacted Fred and George, and they agreed to help with the supplies that we'll need."

Neville looked shocked. "Hermione that's… a big step. Are you sure?"

"Do we have another choice?" Hermione replied archly.

Neville shook his head slowly. "No, but still…"

"We need to do something," Susan stated forcefully. "I'm in. What do you need us to do?"

"It'll take some time to get the equipment. For now, just get ready. It'll probably be after OWL's. Everyone will be relaxed and waiting for summer. Umbridge won't suspect a thing," Hermione responded.

Even Neville was on board by now. "Okay," he finally said. "Let us know when you're ready."

The three shared brief nods then went their separate ways. And from behind a bookshelf, Draco Malfoy stepped out, watching as his fellow students left, a malicious smirk on his face.

* * *

Perhaps the most heart-breaking thing for Hermione was when she finally decided to go through the box of Harry's possessions. She could only imagine how horrific things must have been for her friend, homeless, hungry, and convinced that there was no one left that actually cared about him.

Finding the omnioculars was the worst. She remembered when Harry had purchased three pair at the Quidditch World Cup, one for each of the trio, even over Ron's protests. Harry had always been generous like that. And to her horror, as she inspected the brass device, she realized that it was still set in playback mode halfway through the game. Harry must have been re-watching it shortly before he died. Her heart sank as she realized how lost and lonely her friend must have been feeling, that he would reach out for such a desperate method to feel closer to the people who had ultimately abandoned him.

Still, she pushed past her grief. The omnioculars would be useful.

* * *

For some unfathomable reason (probably an ancient tradition that had made sense at one point) the examiners for the OWL's and NEWT's stayed at Hogwarts during the tests. They arrived the night before, prompting a flurry of last-minute studying and frantic reviewing. To her surprise, Hermione found that she really didn't care. She knew that she would do well, and even if she didn't get all O's, it was not the end of the world. It was times like this that she was forced to realize just how much she had changed.

And as she finished her final test, she realized why she didn't care anymore. Deep down, she had already acknowledged something that her conscious mind had only just begun to accept. Her future did not lay in the Wizarding World. Where once she had expected to find a perfect realm where she would finally be accepted and welcomed, now she knew that prejudice and bigotry ruled supreme. She'd heard the whispered comments in the halls about how the little 'mudblood' had stolen an inheritance that should have gone to someone more deserving. Even if she wanted to remain a part of such a society, it was unlikely that she would be able to do so without compromising some of her values, which she was not willing to do.

She would stay at Hogwarts for as long as she could, if only to learn more, but once she graduated, or, as was seeming more and more likely, once Voldemort took over, she would leave. She may stay to fight the dark lord, if only to protect the defenseless muggles who had no idea of the threat that lurked in the shadows, but she would not be fighting to preserve magical society. If need be, she would destroy them along with the Death Eaters.

Plans and ideas raced through her mind. She had money now, thanks to Harry, and she would use it well, just as her friend had known she would. The war was coming, and the time to prepare was now. It would probably be more accurate to say that the time was long past, but she couldn't let that stop her. She could set up safehouses and purchase supplies, both magical and muggle. Hopefully, the Order of the Phoenix was doing likewise, but it wouldn't hurt for her to prepare as well.

But first, she needed to deal with Umbridge.

* * *

"Susan! Over here," Hermione whispered, loudly enough that the busty redhead could hear her.

Looking around quickly, Susan joined the other girl in the small alcove. "I got your message," the Hufflepuff said, quite unnecessarily in Hermione's opinion. Why else would the girl have come?

Hermione didn't bother pointing out the obvious nature of her friend's statement. "Fred and George have the supplies. They'll bring them to the Shrieking Shack tomorrow night. I'll go out there at seven. It'll probably take about an hour to assemble the device, so you'll need to be sure that Umbridge is occupied for that time," she said gravely.

"Leave it to me," Susan promised.

"Thank you," Hermione replied genuinely, then, with a quick glance, hurried down the hallway, with Susan going in the opposite direction. And after they were gone, Millicent Bulstrode stepped out of a classroom just across from where they had met.

* * *

Hermione ignored her teacher's questioning gaze as she exited the Deputy Headmistress's office. It may not be entirely fair, but Hermione had found herself becoming quite critical of Professor McGonagall this year. Her inaction when many students in the school faced outright persecution not only from fellow students, but from a supposed member of the faculty, was inexcusable.

Still, it was best for now that Hermione follow the rules, and that included notifying the woman that she intended to leave the school grounds. Fortunately, her parents had returned her letter quickly with the permission needed to ensure that her actions this evening were in accordance with school rules. Just in case.

Exiting the castle, she swiftly made her way to the Whomping Willow, just as the sun was descending behind the mountains. A flick of her wand sent a stray branch flying to hit the knot that calmed the violent tree, and Hermione climbed into the tunnel quickly.

When she emerged in the Shrieking Shack, she took a moment to study the place. It was here that everything had gone wrong on that night so long ago. Pettigrew had been unmasked and captured, and if they had managed to deliver him safely to Hogwarts, none of the horrors they faced now would have come to pass. Voldemort never would have been resurrected. Sirius would have been freed. And Harry… Harry would still be at Hogwarts with the people that loved him.

Wiping away the tears that this thought brought, Hermione turned her attention to the large box the Weasley twins had left for her. Glancing down at her watch, she set to work. There was no time to waste. Too much was riding on this.

Hermione had just finished separating out the various components her friends had sent when the door opened. She almost jumped in fright as she spun around and saw Umbridge standing there, accompanied by nearly a dozen members of the Inquisitorial Squad.

"You? How?" she uttered as she looked around, desperate to find some method of escape.

"You weren't nearly as cunning as you thought you were, you little mudblood," the Inquisitor replied, her falsely high-pitched voice at complete odds with the vicious glare on her face.

"I… you… I've done nothing wrong," Hermione claimed, though she knew that the woman facing her would never believe her.

"Nothing wrong?" Umbridge twittered. "Only a mudblood could think anyone would believe that when you've been caught red-handed." The Inquisitorial Squad laughed cruelly at that.

"It's good that we now have proof of your crimes," the squat woman continued. "You'll be sent to Azkaban, and the inheritance that you stole can now be awarded to someone far more deserving," she said, glancing over at Draco, who smirked at the lone Gryffindor in the room.

"Still, we need to know precisely what you have planned. Tell us, and it will be much easier for you," Umbridge demanded.

"I'll never tell you a thing," Hermione swore. "There's nothing you can do to me to make me talk."

"I thought you might say that." Umbridge's voice was sweet, but the undercurrent of malice and hatred was clear. "I imagine that a bit of the cruciatus will loosen your tongue."

To Hermione's disgust, several of the students who had accompanied the teacher seemed pleased at this idea. Malfoy, in particular, was grinning broadly.

"You're just a foul, loathsome toad!" Hermione screamed. "You'll get what's coming to you someday. If Harry were still here, you'd never have dared do anything like this. You're afraid of him. You still are!"

As Hermione spoke, Umbridge's fake smile turned to a scowl, but then morphed into a triumphant smirk. "Potter? Why would I be afraid of Potter? He's dead. I defeated him!" she spat.

"You didn't do a thing!" Hermione yelled.

"I sent the dementors after him!" Umbridge roared. "It's a pity he wasn't Kissed, but at least some filthy muggles were good enough to finish the job!"

As she realized what the woman had said, Hermione took a step back. A feeling of calm spread over her as she realized that the desperate gamble had worked, and she made a mental note to profusely thank Susan and Neville for their help. True, she hadn't known for certain, but Hermione had been convinced that Umbridge had something to do with what happened to her friend. And now, she had confirmation. "I didn't think it would be that easy," she admitted.

In the corner of the room furthest from the door, Amelia Bones, Nymphadora Tonks and Rita Skeeter faded into view as the disillusionment charm fell.

"I think we've heard enough," Bones said, her voice holding all the warmth of a blizzard.

Umbridge paled, and a few of the students tried to run, but Tonks quickly sealed the door. "None of that, now. We need to get your statements, after all," the metamorph chided, her tone innocent, but the fury on her face clear for all to see.

Hermione walked over to the table, where the omnioculars had sat unnoticed. Umbridge had not realized that she was being recorded. "Here," she said, offering the device to Madam Bones. "Just in case she tries to lie about what she said."

Madam Bones and Tonks both looked grateful (and enraged, but that went without saying).

And Rita Skeeter… she looked like Christmas had come early. It was clear that she was already mentally composing the article that would be the talk of magical Britain for months. And for the first time in her life, Hermione found herself appreciating the unscrupulous reporter.

* * *

Hermione ignored the whispered conversations that filled every compartment of the train on the ride back to London. The scandal had been immense, and, in fact, was still ongoing, as Fudge tried to claim that he had no idea what his Undersecretary had done.

The Prophet had printed the story faithfully, and now everyone knew that Harry had indeed been innocent, the victim of persecution by a corrupt government. And though some people, such as Ron (to Hermione's great displeasure) seemed to think that this was a good end given that Harry had finally been vindicated, Hermione just felt sick about the whole thing. It was a hollow victory at best. Harry was still dead, and the truth finally being known did not change that.

* * *

_Spinner's End_

_Two months later_

With a will born of iron, one that had served him well in his position of spy, Severus Snape kept his face neutral until his unwelcome guests had finally left. _Of course Narcissa would only care once she realized that it was her son on the chopping block._ The conceited woman had never truly supported the cause. Like so many others, to her, it was a means to an end. And though Snape himself couldn't say that he truly blamed her or even disagreed with her attitude, the fact that she had the unmitigated gall to demand that he take an Unbreakable Vow to aid her son infuriated him. Unfortunately, despite the many significant failures of the Malfoys in the recent past, she was still powerful and influential enough that to deny her would put him in a precarious situation.

After all, his whole purpose for maintaining the charade of being a loyal soldier for either cause was to ensure that he profited in the end. And it wasn't as though the oath was all that constrictive. Narcissa's wording had left several obvious loopholes that any half-witted Slytherin should have noticed. And if Snape were truly forced to act, well, there were certainly ways that he could turn that to his advantage, as well.

A soft creak from the back room drew his attention. Wand held ready, Snape cautiously opened the door and listened closely. Given the very powerful (and illegal, though Snape didn't care about that) wards around this house, it was unlikely that an intruder had managed to enter undetected, but it was always better to be safe than to be sorry.

"_Homenum Revelio,_" he muttered softly, relaxing just a hair when the spell indicated that there were no other people present. Entering the room, he heard a soft squeak, and turned to see a mouse fleeing into a hole in the corner of the room. Making a mental note to check the vermin repulsion wards (not that he cared overmuch, given that he spent little time here) he turned back to the door. He had hardly taken a step when his whole body froze, and he found himself falling to the floor.

The air around him seemed to shimmer, and he realized to his horror that his assailant had cast a dark variant of the Bubblehead Charm, one used to slowly asphyxiate the victim. His thoughts raced as he tried to find a way out of his predicament, but no solution came to mind. He could hear his attacker working on something out of his sight, soft chants and the occasional colored flare of a spell being cast offering the only clues to what the stranger was doing.

After several minutes, his breathing was becoming labored, with very little oxygen being left in the bubble surrounding his head. Darkness began to gather in the corners of his vision. His attacker was still at work, but now the chanting was louder than ever, until it finally seemed that the man was almost shouting. A sickly, yellow light filled the room, and Snape knew true pain.

The body-bind prevented him from moving, or even screaming, which made the experience even worse. There was no escape, no relief. Just a never-ending agony that grew with each second as the Potions Master prayed for death. He pleaded with whatever spirits may exist that the asphyxiation curse would finally complete its task.

Through his torment, he could still hear what was happening in the room around him. His assailant… no, his murderer was slowly approaching him. His breath caught as the man finally came into view.

As the darkness gathered, in his last moments, still wracked in pain and agony, Severus Snape found himself staring at a familiar face, one with messy black hair and blazing green eyes filled with absolute hate.


	8. Chapter 8: Calm Before the Storm

A/N – As some of you may have noticed, I have changed the rating on this story to 'M'. I recently finished the storyboard for this fic and it gets a lot darker than I had initially planned, so I decided to just change the rating now.

Also, a huge thanks to The Sinister Man, who recommended my story in a recent chapter of his phenomenal story, _Harry Potter and the Prince of Slytherin_. To any of you who have somehow not heard of this gem, I suggest you take a look.

* * *

Chapter 8: Calm Before the Storm

"You know, I am going to be so glad when I turn seventeen and can finally use magic outside of Hogwarts," Hermione remarked, letting out a soft groan as she placed a box filled with canned soup on the small pile in the storeroom of the safehouse.

"I can believe it," her dad replied with a smile. "Being able to levitate all of this would be much easier than carrying it." His smile turned mischievous. "But then you wouldn't get as much exercise, and I know that's very important to you."

"I'm getting plenty of exercise, thank you very much," she responded primly. It was an old disagreement between the two of them.

The minutes flew by as they continued to unload the food into the safehouse, until eventually they were finished. By that time, Hermione was covered in sweat and could already tell that her arms and back would be very sore the next day, but there was still a sense of accomplishment that made all the fatigue and discomfort worth it.

"_Mellon_," Hermione clearly enunciated, and the doorway into the safehouse shimmered and disappeared, leaving the teenage girl looking at a plain, rocky surface once more. Turning around, she saw her father looking on in amazement.

"It doesn't matter how many times I see it, that's still incredible," he commented.

"Yeah, Tonks does good work," Hermione agreed. The metamorph had played a pivotal role in establishing the safehouse network since Hermione was still underage. While there was an anti-scrying ward built in that should prevent the ministry from detecting underage magic use when the door was shut, all of the initial work on placing the wards and expanding the interior had to be done by someone of age. And of all the people Hermione knew, Tonks was the one she felt most comfortable asking for help in her scheme. Not just because she got along well with the other woman, but because she was confident that Tonks wouldn't report it to Dumbledore.

This thought made Hermione sigh, bringing so many conflicting emotions to the forefront of her thoughts. She had always respected the headmaster, but now she was beginning to see a different side of the man. Not that he was evil, but he was convinced that his way was the only way, refusing to consider other people's ideas and counsel, a tendency which had led to her best friend running away and his godfather Sirius being killed. Given that Sirius had been Tonks' mother's cousin, the young Auror had not been any more pleased with Dumbledore's schemes than Hermione had been.

She pushed these thoughts away as she climbed into the car with her father.

"So, how many more of these safehouses are you going to try to make?" he asked as they pulled onto the small dirt road that would lead back to civilization.

"As many as I can," she said truthfully. "I have a feeling we're going to need them." A few moments of silence passed before she continued. "I'd still like you and Mum to consider leaving the country." In truth, there was a part of her that didn't want to just ask. In a month she would be of age and could use magic to remove their memories and compel them to go somewhere safe. A year ago, she might have even gone through with it, but after seeing so many times in the past year where her initial thoughts and ideas would have been detrimental, or even disastrous, she had learned that she didn't always have the answer to every problem.

Her friendship with Susan had been helpful in that regard. While Harry and Ron would normally just go with whatever she said, Hermione had learned that Susan was perfectly willing to challenge her when some of her ideas had flaws she hadn't considered. So now, though it was difficult for her to admit, she had come to the realization that she didn't have the right to make choices for other people. Looking back, it was somewhat embarrassing that she had ever thought that, especially considering her fervor for freeing the House Elves (a cause that she still supported, but had been forced to put on the backburner given more pressing concerns).

As always, even a tangential thought relating to Harry brought a wave of sorrow as memories of her deceased friend sprung to mind. It was his money that was funding this network of safehouses, as well as many other purchases that Hermione felt would be useful given the impending war. She'd spent the past few weeks stockpiling potion and healing supplies, maps, food, magically expanded wizarding tents, and other such things. She just wished that he was still here to see it.

"I'm running a little bit low on funds," she said after a few minutes. "Can we sell some more jewels soon?" To get around the strict laws regarding exchanging magical and non-magical currency, she had taken to purchasing jewels in the magical world and then selling them the non-magical jewelers. Maybe not the best approach, but certainly better than just conjuring muggle money, as she was sure many in the wizarding world did. After all, how else would the perennially poor Weasleys have been able to pay for three taxis to drive them for hours from the Burrow to London during the summer before her fourth year?

"Sure, let me get in touch with Charles and we'll set something up," her father replied easily.

"Thanks," Hermione said, then settled back in the comfortable seat as she thought over the additional tasks she still wanted to accomplish before returning to Hogwarts next week. _I'm meeting with Fleur at lunch on Monday. After that I could go to Diagon Alley, see about purchasing some extra brooms for transporting people between the safehouses. Maybe stop in and see Fred and George's shop…_

Her father's classical music filled the silence in the car as she continued to plan.

* * *

While most of the stores in Diagon Alley were plain and subdued, likely in an attempt to not draw the attention of the "troublemakers" the Ministry had recently begun to warn the population of (no mention was ever made of Voldemort in official Ministry notices), the Weasley Twins' new store was so eye-watering it was almost painful to look at. Quite a number of passersby had stopped to stare at the display window where an assortment of products could be seen bouncing, flashing, popping and shrieking.

With some trepidation, Hermione pushed the door open and entered the strange shop. Customers were everywhere, with people having to push through the crowded aisles to reach their desired products.

As she took a few moments to browse through the various inventions Fred and George had created, Hermione was unwillingly impressed with their creativity and skill. She was particularly fascinated by the daydream charms, though, as usual, she couldn't help but feel a small frisson of frustration that they had taken such an incredible idea with limitless possibilities and chosen to use it on something so… juvenile.

"So, the delectable Miss Granger has emerged from wherever she's been hiding all summer to come visit us?" Fred said in mock astonishment as he appeared suddenly, startling Hermione so much that she almost dropped the box she was holding.

"I haven't been hiding, I've just been busy," she retorted as she placed the item back on the display. Not an entirely true statement, but she really didn't want to think about that right now.

"And what is it that brings you to our humble establishment today in spite of your incredible busy-ness?" George asked as he turned a corner.

Hermione shrugged. "Just wanted to see how the store was going. You've got some pretty impressive magic here."

Fred glared at her. "Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger? She would never approve of pranking products." The stern tone of his voice was completely at odds with the amused expression on his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I still think that it's a waste for you to use your talents just for jokes and pranks, but I do acknowledge that you have the right to choose what to do with your lives, and making people laugh is not a bad thing so long as it's not at other people's expense. But if you thought about it, I imagine that you could find uses for many of these products that are far more useful, and thus, more lucrative."

The twins shared a look before turning their attention back to the bushy-haired girl. "For example…" George prompted.

"Like these daydream charms. Could you modify them so that they last longer and control what a person dreams about at night?" Hermione inquired.

"Yes," Fred responded slowly, obviously confused. "But giving people wet dreams doesn't sound like what you were talking about."

"NO, that's not what I meant," Hermione objected, flushing at Fred's comment. "If you can control the content, instead of having something… erotic, what if you put in an informative lesson to help people revise for their OWL's or NEWT's? If it's just for a fun daydream, people are going to be very limited in what they're willing to pay. But if it helps them do better on tests that will have a major impact on future job opportunities, many people will think it worthwhile to pay fifty or a hundred or maybe even more galleons for it." Given how much students had been willing to pay for tutoring as the tests drew near (not to mention the supposed 'study aids' that had been so common) Hermione was confident that her idea would be quite a money-maker.

Glancing up, Hermione couldn't stop the smile that spread at the gob-smacked look on Fred's face. "That's brilliant!" the boy exclaimed softly.

"Come with us," George instructed as the twins each grabbed an arm and all but dragged her past a curtain and into a side room. There were still plenty of products on the shelves here, but the packaging was more subdued.

"This is our more serious line of products, mostly things for defense," Fred explained. "We got a big order from the Ministry for our Shield Hats, and we're looking at expanding into other areas as well, but we have come to the realization that our ingenious minds are focused primarily on pranks. We just don't have the mindset necessary to see more serious applications."

"But you, however, do," George continued, picking up right where Fred had left off. "How would you like a job as an independent consultant helping us develop a more mature line of products?"

"Which reminds me, we also need to talk about something related to the business," Fred said much more seriously.

Hermione looked at the two redheads suspiciously. "What would be involved in me being an independent consultant?" she asked, her tone wary.

"We've got a whole bunch of stuff in the back that we haven't figured out how to use yet. We'll send you some of that, and a bunch of our regular products, and you see if you can find someway to make something out of it that people like you would buy."

"People like me?" she asked, eyes narrowing.

Fred was not an all intimidated as he explained his earlier statement. "Yes, intelligent, hard-working and serious people like you."

Hermione doubted that's what he had actually meant, but she couldn't deny that the idea of developing new products piqued her interest. "I'm still busy now, but once I'm back at Hogwarts I'll have more time, so send it to me then and I'll take a look at it," she finally decided.

"Cheers!" George exclaimed. "Glad to have you on board."

"Indeed, it will be great to have you helping to expand the business that you own 20% of," Fred added casually.

"That I what?" Hermione demanded.

Both twins looked much more somber now. "Harry gave us our start-up money, so we decided that he deserved 20% ownership. And since you inherited almost everything from him…" George's voice trailed off.

Suppressing the sorrow that always came when she thought of Harry, Hermione frowned at this information. "As much as I appreciate it, I have plenty of money now. Maybe it would be better to give it to Ron," she suggested.

The twins shared a look. "Are you sure you want us to do that?" Fred asked. "We know the two of you aren't exactly getting along right now."

That was an understatement. Ron had not been pleased that Hermione had been Harry's primary beneficiary, and though she tried to ignore it, it hurt that her sole remaining friend of so many years was getting jealous over her newfound wealth.

"Maybe if Ron feels like he got something it will help to smooth things over," she suggested.

Both of the older boys looked a bit dubious at that, but neither made any comment.

"Well, I need to go," Hermione finally said. "Send whatever you want me to look at to Hogwarts and I'll see what I can come up with."

* * *

A week later she was back on the Hogwarts Express. Though it seemed strange to be riding in a separate compartment from Ron, Hermione was grateful that Neville, Susan and Hannah had all joined her. Conversation was still stilted, however, as Susan was still concerned about her Aunt, who was still in Saint Mungo's after barely surviving an attack in her home a few weeks earlier.

It was just one of many signs that things were going very wrong in the Wizarding World, though, of course, the Minister still refused to even consider the possibility that Voldemort had returned. More and more people were asking questions and demanding answers that he didn't want to give. According to Neville (or more accurately, according to Neville's Gran) it was only a matter of time before the Wizengamot kicked him out of office. The problem then would be who to have take over?

Given that Hermione had never heard of any of the possible candidates the other three were discussing, she had nothing to contribute to the conversation, but she was pleased to see that at least some people were starting to take notice of the catastrophe they faced. It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't enough, but at least it was a start in the right direction.

* * *

A few days into the school year Hermione found herself in the office of her head of house, wondering what could possibly have caused Professor McGonagall to be looking at her with such a stern expression.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" she asked levelly, forcing herself to remain calm.

"As you may recall from the Headmaster's comments at the opening feast, all packages intended for students are being inspected for any suspicious items. I cannot even begin to express how disappointed I was when I saw what sort of items you had purchased, Miss Granger," the teacher said, now glaring.

"I… what, I didn't…" words failed her as Hermione tried to understand what she was being accused of.

"Skivving Snackboxes. Confunding Curios. The Complete Prankster's Package? _Love Potions?_ Good heavens, Miss Granger, what you possibly want with all of these?"

The Weasley Twins! Hermione opened her mouth to try to explain but shut it again when she saw a mischievous glint in the professor's eye. _Apparently, Fred and George weren't the only ones pranking me,_ she realized.

"Really, Professor, is this how you've taken to entertaining yourself now?" Hermione huffed in frustration.

The stern expression melted into one of amusement. "If you're going to associate with known pranksters, Miss Granger, you'll need to get used to it."

"Yes, I fully expect that Fred and George will not hesitate to play practical jokes on me. I just didn't expect that a teacher who is well known for disapproving of such behavior to join in."

"Despite my usual serious demeanor, I am not entirely without a sense of humor," the professor stated dryly. "Though I must admit I would still like to know why the most notorious pranksters Hogwarts has suffered through in recent years have decided to send you so many of their products."

"I agreed to help them develop more serious merchandise," Hermione explained simply.

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I suppose given the current situation we could all use a little more laughter in our lives," she muttered before taking a deep breath and looking once more at the girl in front of her. "Very well, Miss Granger, I will let you keep these items. Know that if you do use them to disrupt classes, I shall be very cross with you."

"I would never do such a thing," Hermione promised fervently.

Now it looked like the professor was fighting an inner war with herself. "And in the future, I suggest that you have the Weasley twins send future products to me, and I will pass them on to you," she said with obvious reluctance. "That way we can avoid any false alarms in Mister Filch's monitoring of the mail."

"I'll let them know," Hermione responded. "Now, unless you have any more pranks you'd like to play on me, I'd like to request a meeting with the headmaster."

The stern Scotswoman was clearly startled by this declaration. "May I ask why?" she inquired.

"I have certain matters that I need to address with him," Hermione said calmly.

"The headmaster is a very busy man," the professor retorted. "I'm sure I can help you with whatever you feel needs to be… addressed."

Hermione made no effort to soften the blow against her once-favorite teacher. "Given the fact that you never once stood up for Harry when he was mistreated by the others students, and even worse, by your colleague Severus Snape, nor did you make any effort to oppose the measures Umbridge used to oppress the muggleborns and other 'undesirable' students last year, I have absolutely no faith in your ability to resolve these issues satisfactorily."

McGonagall was obviously taken aback by the blunt statement. "What?" she finally managed to utter.

"Did you do anything about the insulting badges Draco Malfoy passed out to the other students during the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Hermione countered. Inside, Hermione was startled at the confrontational turn this conversation had taken, but she didn't stop. She couldn't stop. Months of anger and frustration were finally floating to the surface. "Or what about when everyone thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin? While he was being shunned for being a parselmouth, I don't recall you ever taking any action on his behalf, nor do I recall you ever intervening when Harry was being insulted and belittled by Snape. And while I acknowledge that my willingness to follow Dumbledore's instructions not to share any important information with Harry prior to fifth year played a part, I think that your poor performance as Head of Gryffindor in seeing to the welfare of _all_ the students in your care was also a very large factor in his decision to run away." As she finished her rant, Hermione cringed internally. McGonagall had a well-deserved reputation for being unyielding when challenged.

Instead of anger, however, the professor's face was one of remorse. "I will arrange for you to meet with Professor Dumbledore," she said quietly.

* * *

Hermione paused at the top of the spiral staircase to gather her thoughts, then took a deep breath and knocked.

"Ah, Miss Granger, come in," Dumbledore called.

"Thank you for seeing me, Headmaster," Hermione said politely as she entered. Her thoughts wandered for a moment as she remembered the last time she had set foot in this room, the night that she had learned that her best friend had been murdered. Despite the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes, she knew now was not the time for distractions.

"Of course," the old man said jovially, but his eyes didn't seem to match the tone of his voice. "Now, what can I do for you?"

_No sense beating around the bush now. _"I would like to know why there has been no punishment for the members of the Inquisitorial Squad, especially Draco Malfoy, who is still a prefect despite everything he's done."

Dumbledore studied her for a moment. "And why do you feel this is any of your concern?" he inquired.

Hermione looked straight in his eyes, refusing to be cowed. "As a student in this school, I am concerned that someone who has demonstrated a propensity for victimizing his fellow students has been allowed to retain a position of authority over the other pupils. And as a prefect, I find it insulting to be considered on his same level."

A moment of silence followed this bold declaration. "Mister Malfoy was following someone he believed to have proper authority," the headmaster finally replied.

"That's the exact same excuse the Nazis used. _Mister Malfoy_ was excited at the idea of me being tortured," Hermione snarled. "He knew full well that Umbridge was acting far outside of what was legally permitted. He didn't care. He wasn't following her because he respected her authority. He went along because she allowed him to do exactly what he wanted to do – torment those he saw as being less than him. I wouldn't be surprised at all if he'd already joined the Death Eaters. And I don't understand why you don't seem to care."

"I assure you, Miss Granger, I take the safety of my students very seriously," Dumbledore said gravely. "The faculty and I are watching out for all of the students in this school to ensure there are no threats, whether that is from the outside or the inside."

"So, you're not going to do anything?" Hermione asked, her voice deceptively calm.

"The disciplinary measures for the actions of the Inquisitorial Squad was handled last year," the headmaster replied, his voice no less calm. "The matter is over and done with."

Though she had suspected it would come to this, Hermione still felt a pang of regret as she unpinned the prefect's badge from her uniform and set it on the desk in front of her. "If Draco Malfoy represents the type of student you want as prefect, then I refuse to continue to serve in a position that is obviously far beneath me."

* * *

"Thank you all for coming," Hermione said, looking around at the room where the Defense Group was gathered once more. "It's clear that, if anything, our world has gotten even more dangerous in the past few months. We need to learn to defend ourselves now more than ever."

She glanced over at Susan and Neville, who were standing in the front with her. "The three of us have discussed this, and we want to continue to teach those who are willing to learn. But we also need to make sure that we are not teaching people who will use what they have learned to support the Death Eaters. So, anyone who wishes to continue meeting with us will be required to sign a magically binding contract that they will not support Tom Riddle, aka 'Lord Voldemort' or any of his followers, commonly known as the Death Eaters," she said, holding the contracts up so the other students could see them.

"Why not just say we have to obey the Ministry, or follow the law, or something like that?" one of the smaller students in the front asked.

"Laws can be changed," Hermione said bluntly. "And I have absolutely no trust in the Ministry. In case you've all forgotten, this group was started because they didn't want us to learn how to defend ourselves."

"Can we really protect ourselves if they try to kill us?" someone wondered, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.

Hermione thought for a moment about how much she wanted to reveal. "I have been making some preparations just in case things get very bad," she admitted. "But we all need to learn enough to do our part. Anyone who signs can stay. The rest will have to leave."

While most of the students willingly signed the contracts, there were a few who left instead. Looking over at the serious expressions on her friends' faces, she could tell that she wasn't the only one who would be remembering exactly which students had refused to sign.


End file.
